


It's Always Darkest Before The Dawn

by historyziam



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Ableist Language, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Image, Domestic, Fluff and Smut, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Heavy Angst, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Major Illness, Mentions of Death, No Character Death, OT5 Friendship, POV Alternating, Sexuality, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 11:56:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8712868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historyziam/pseuds/historyziam
Summary: At a time in his life when Zayn thinks he has forgotten what genuine happiness feels like, Liam comes into the picture and changes everything.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is loosely inspired by a Bollywood film entitled Kal Ho Naa Ho.
> 
>  **Illness** : The medical jargon/procedures/treatments in this fic (basically, everything related to it) isn’t accurate, and I’ve exaggerated certain symptoms to help further the story. I’m sorry if this bothers anyone.  
>  **Characters** : Safaa is younger in this story, she’s around 6 years old. James is also younger, in his late 20s. The name and character of Zayn’s grandmother is made up.
> 
> It took me a veeery long time to finish this fic, but I’m happy to finally share it. Comments and/or kudos would mean a lot to me. :)

The year Liam finds out that there’s a problem with his heart is the year of his twelfth birthday. A sudden painful sensation hits him in the chest as he’s walking to school and it makes him wince, pausing in his step as he clutches the area. It lasts only momentarily, so he ends up brushing it off. It happens again after two days, just as he’s about to fall asleep, and it jolts him wide awake. The pain lingers for the rest of the night. He starts having trouble breathing and fatigue takes over him easily, but he attributes it to what could be a lack of sleep and a bit of stress from his busy days in school.

It’s a few weeks later, when he’s out on the field playing a game of football with his mates, that the same overwhelming pain hits him, but this time, it causes him to double over, coughing and spluttering until his face is tomato red and his lungs feel like they’re about to burst. Liam wakes up to find himself in a hospital bed. He manages to catch a conversation the doctor has with his parents, mentioning a lot of complex medical things that he doesn’t understand.

“In short, your son’s heart is not working as well as it should be.”

He closes his eyes tight -- doesn’t want them to know he’s been listening -- and they leave the room a while later. For the first time, a small feeling of fear settles in, but he smiles, when the same doctor sees him the next day and tells him he’s going to be alright. He laughs, when his sisters come around with jokes and gifts to liven the atmosphere. He hugs his parents and tries to ignore the worry and uncertainty in their eyes.

He spends most of his teenage years in and out of the hospital, his heart seeming to get weaker every time. He loses so much weight that he can’t gain back no matter how hard he tries, his small body making him look even more meek. He endures the whispers and pitiful stares whenever he walks down the hallways at school-- no one really knows how to be friends with _the sick kid_. Five years after his first hospital visit, the doctors tell him that his condition is looking up and that he could lead a relatively normal life again. It’s been ten years since that first visit now and Liam’s in the doctor’s office, fidgeting in his seat.

The symptoms that once affected Liam had begun to strongly plague him again in the past few weeks, and he’d called for a check-up when they got too much to bear. The doctor glances up at Liam through her thin-rimmed glasses a few times as she’s going over the folder that she’s holding, as if bothered by his constant movements. Liam reaches out to touch an hourglass on the doctor’s table, turning it over, eyes following the sand as it drops. He does it again and again, until the doctor lets out a loud cough and he retracts his hand.

“So, Liam,” she says casually, like she’s about to discuss what he had for breakfast that morning instead of his latest medical test results. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” he replies, too quickly, lips quirked tightly into what he hopes is a smile. The doctor keeps her gaze on Liam as if to try to get a read on him. He maintains eye contact for a few seconds before discomfort takes over and he looks away.

“Liam, your latest tests showed certain… abnormalities that have not been present until recently,” she reveals. She turns her head to face Liam’s mother, who’s seated beside him. “It seems that Liam’s blood cells aren’t regenerating at a quick enough rate, interrupting oxygen flow to the heart. We can’t determine the exact cause at this juncture, I’m afraid, but it is a serious issue and if not treated, the impact could potentially be significant.”

Liam’s leg shakes almost involuntarily and he maintains a tight grip on the armrest of his chair as the doctor further explains his current condition. He doesn’t really process much of it at all. The only thing that sticks out to him is that it’s _not good_ ; he might get really sick again, seriously sick, and the thought of possibly having to go through the pain from his childhood once more has him feeling lightheaded and nauseous.

“What are our options, doctor?” Karen asks. Her voice doesn’t waver; so accustomed to these procedures after years of having to deal with Liam’s sickness, years of visits to the clinic or hospital, years of worry and stress that have aged her. Liam’s always thought that his mum’s much stronger than she takes credit for, and he isn’t sure if it’s because she’s gotten better at hiding her negative emotions, but he’s grateful for her presence nonetheless.

“I can recommend Liam to a specialist here in Wolverhampton. But I’d suggest heading into London if you can. The doctors are more experienced there and they’ll be able to give you a more accurate prognosis and offer more treatment options. As for the transplant we discussed in your previous visit, that option is possible, but Liam will have to go through more tests to see if he’s suitable for one.”

Liam doesn’t realise that he’s started to bite his fingernails out of habit until he looks at the doctor. She flashes what seems to be an encouraging grin but it comes across as awkward and unpracticed. There is that look in her eyes; one Liam’s seen so many times before, he could recognise it on anyone-- it’s a look of pure _sympathy_ , and he can’t stand it.

“You’ve not had any major problems with your condition in recent years and that has been very promising,” the doctor adds, as if trying to soften the blow. “There is a good chance that your condition will improve, but I also want to be realistic with you, so that you can... prepare yourself for anything that might happen.”

“Okay,” Liam nods. It’s just another hurdle, he tells himself. He’ll get through this, like he did years ago. He’ll be _fine_.

 

***

 

**5 months later**

Zayn groans when his alarm clock rings, the incessant noise whirring in his ears. He had gone to bed with a raging headache after an almost full night of studying and his meagre three hours of sleep hadn’t helped with relieving the pain. He sits up in his bed, blinking furiously in an attempt to clear his vision.

“Zaynieee!” his little sister yells, unceremoniously bursting into his room. “Guess what I got!”

“Not now, Safaa!” Zayn snaps. The girl’s upper lip begins to tremble and tears threaten to fall from her eyes as she backs away to the door. Zayn instantly regrets taking out his annoyance on being awake so early on her, but she’s already running out of the room, screaming for their mother, and it’s too late to take it back. He lets out a long sigh. He pushes himself off of his bed to grab a towel from his bedside drawer, realising that there’s a bruise on his arm -- he can’t even recall how he’d gotten it -- before dragging himself to the bathroom.

When Zayn darts down the stairs half an hour later, backpack slung over one shoulder, he braces himself for a scolding from his mother, but is not at all surprised to find that she’s already busy bickering with his grandmother.

“I don’t understand why you have to play those sermons so loudly every morning,” Trisha says, her forehead creased. “The neighbours keep complaining and--”

“Let them complain,” Mariam interrupts. “No one had any comments about it back home.”

“For God’s sake, ma, we’re in London, not Pakistan. The same things don’t apply here.”

“This is why your catering business hasn’t been earning much. People here can only appreciate the Western culture, and that includes the food.”

“How is that relevant? Besides, there is a market here for Pakistani cuisine,” Trisha insists. “It’s just that the business hasn’t gotten its big break. But it will.”

“And how do you expect us to be blessed with good fortune if you won’t let me spiritually cleanse this house?”

Zayn rolls his eyes, tuning out the argument. His expression considerably softens when he notices Safaa at the dining table, her big eyes darting interchangeably between the two women, bottom lip almost chewed through.

“Hey, you,” Zayn says, kneeling in front of Safaa. “Wanna go get some ice cream tonight?”

Safaa’s eyes light up at that. “Can I get two scoops?”

“Of course. Two big scoops of cookies and cream with chocolate sprinkles, just the way you like it,” Zayn smiles.

“Thanks bhaiya,” she quips, a broad grin spreading across her face.

Zayn gets up and turns around. “Can we have one morning of peace in this house?”

“I wouldn’t have to make a fuss if your dadi wasn’t so unreasonable,” Trisha says.

“ _I’m_ being unreasonable?” Mariam retorts.

“I’m going to school,” Zayn announces, turning on his heel and away from them, thoughts of having breakfast forgotten. Zayn bolts out the door, almost stomping down the pathway to where a lanky boy with green eyes and short cropped hair is leaning against his car. He has half a bagel balanced between his lips while he shrugs on a jacket, quirking an eyebrow when he sees Zayn’s expression as he comes towards him.

“Do I even want to know?” he asks after releasing his bite on the bagel.

“No, Harry,” Zayn deadpans. “Let’s go.”

They stop by the cafe near their university as per their morning routine, and the latte that Zayn orders instantly lifts his mood.

“Zayn! Haz!” Zayn hears someone yell. He turns around, eyes landing on the pale boy with blond hair and bright blue eyes who’s jogging towards them.

“Mornin’,” he greets in his Irish drawl. “What’s the craic?”

“Hey, Niall,” Harry greets.

“Just drowning in my own misery, the usual,” Zayn responds. He gives his other best mate a once-over, taking in his ruffled hair and creased clothing, his gaze stopping on a hickey that’s blooming near his jaw. “I take it that you didn’t get home last night.”

Harry snickers. “Did you bail on another bird or was it a bloke this time?”

Niall tugs on his shirt in a half-hearted attempt to smooth out the creases but to no success.

“I didn’t sneak out, told her that I had to go and I’d call her.”

“Which you’re not going to do,” Zayn states matter-of-factly. Niall shrugs. “Nialler, one of these days you’re going to realize that this bachelor lifestyle of yours isn’t going to keep you satisfied forever.”

There’s a touch of humour in his tone but Niall knows he’s being serious.

“Until then, no harm living a little,” Niall bares his teeth in a wide grin, placing an arm around Zayn and pulling him close. Zayn rolls his eyes but pokes him in the side playfully, his own lips twisting into a smile. “You lads wanna hang at my place tonight?”

“Can’t, meeting up with me mates from theatre,” Harry declines apologetically. Niall pouts, turning to Zayn with an expectant look on his face.

“Sure,” he says. “I’ll text you.”

Niall beams at him. “Z, you’re like, the only attractive person with an almost non-existent social life in this city, so you always have time for me. I like you.”

“Thanks Niall, don’t know what I’d do without you,” Zayn replies with as much sarcasm as he can muster. They enter the lecture hall where their class is about to start, signalling the end of their conversation.

 

***

 

Liam lifts the last of the boxes out of the moving van and walks into his parents’ new house. The moving process had taken a few days (who knew they had so much _junk_?) and Liam had grown bored of mulling about while the movers walked in and out of the house. He sets the box down in the living room, where several other boxes full of their belongings already clutter the space. He wipes away a bead of sweat that forms on his forehead from the exertion.

“You didn’t have to carry those in, Liam,” Karen tuts as she walks into the room. “The movers would’ve taken care of it.”

“I can’t stand around and do nothing, mum, been doing that for days,” he responds, exasperation taking over.

“Just want you to be more careful, love,” Karen says, reaching out to give him a reassuring squeeze on his bicep. “You can’t overexert, remember?” His mother gives him many reminders out of concern, and even though Liam understands where she’s coming from, it only makes him feel frustrated and worse, _useless_.

“I know,” he sighs, not wanting to start an argument. “I’m gonna take a walk. See what the neighbourhood’s like.”

He receives a murmur of assent from his mother, who has turned away from him and is distractedly looking for something in one of the boxes. He walks out of the house, pausing to close his eyes and delight in the cool breeze of the morning. He gets shocked out of the moment after a minute when he hears the loud sound of a door slamming. He blinks his eyes open and watches as a boy with brown skin and jet black hair leaves the house across the street, almost stomping down the pathway to another boy, taller and with shorter hair, who’s leaning against a car parked by the side of the road. They pause briefly, before getting in the car and driving off. Liam raises an eyebrow, curiosity taking over.

Some time later in the afternoon, when the movers have left, Liam crosses the road to the opposite house. He presses the doorbell, before stepping back and putting his hands in his pockets. The door opens after a minute, and Liam is greeted by a woman, who looks a bit younger than his own mother, smiling warmly at him.

“Hello,” Liam says.

“Hello, what can I do for you?” the woman asks.

“My parents just moved into the house across the street and I thought I’d come over and introduce myself since we’ll probably be seeing a lot of each other. I’m Liam Payne.”

“Ah, yes, the Millers’ old house,” she nods in comprehension. “Lovely to meet you. My name is Patricia, but you can call me Trisha.”

A little girl appears behind Trisha, sticking her head out to peek curiously at Liam while tugging on her blouse.

“This is Safaa, my youngest,” Trisha says, placing a gentle hand on the girl’s head.

“Hi Safaa. That’s a lovely name,” Liam compliments. She smiles slightly, but Liam picks up on her hesitance when she doesn’t come out from behind Trisha.

“I’d say my son is about your age, he could show you around the neighbourhood-- ah, there he is right now,” Trisha exclaims. Liam turns his head to match her line of vision, seeing the two boys from earlier in the morning (along with another blond one) walk up the pathway towards them. A strange feeling courses its way through Liam when his eyes land on the boy Trisha’s referring to. He isn’t sure if it’s just instant mild attraction -- the boy is extremely handsome up close -- or something more than that, but he doesn’t know what to make of it, so he pushes the feeling away.

“Boys, this is Liam,” Trisha introduces as the three boys come closer to the porch. “His parents moved in across the street. Liam, this is Zayn, and Harry and Niall, his friends.”

The boy -- _Zayn_ \-- gives him an almost bored and somewhat unimpressed look.

“Hi,” Liam says, sticking his hand out expectantly. The first thing Liam really notices is just how warm Zayn’s eyes are under the sun, making his dark irises stand out against the light chocolate brown, shaped by perfectly long lashes. He seems to realize that he’s held his gaze on the boy for a little too long when he clears his throat, as if uncomfortable.

“Nice to meet you,” Zayn mutters half-heartedly, shaking Liam’s hand and offering a weak smile when, Liam notices with a quick glance, his mother shoots daggers at him.

“If I knew my parents had such a beautiful neighbour, I would’ve come over a lot sooner,” Liam says, his eyes flitting to Zayn.

“Excuse me?” Zayn asks, clearly perturbed by Liam’s words.

“I was _talking_ to Safaa,” Liam pretends to clarify, bending down to be at the same eye level as the girl. Safaa giggles and steps forward, more at ease with Liam’s presence. “Thank you, Leeyum.”

Niall laughs out loud. “I like you already.”

“Welcome to the neighbourhood,” Harry adds, flashing a smile that accentuates the dimples on his cheeks. He seems highly amused with the entire situation. There is a certain charm to both of the boys that Liam finds himself drawn to.

“Thank you. Um, I should get going, have a good evening,” Liam says. He chances another glance at Zayn before he walks away, but the other boy is already walking into the house, not sparing him a second thought. Still, the smile on his face doesn’t fade for the rest of the day.

 

***

 

Liam wakes up in a good mood, having gotten a full night of sleep, a rare occurrence ever since he moved into his apartment just under three months ago. He thinks about his plans for the day as he makes his regular mug of coffee.

“Good morning, sunshine!” a voice sing-songs as Liam leaves the kitchen and he almost drops his mug in shock as his eyes land on the boy splayed out on the couch, a shit-eating grin on his face. It makes Liam start to second-guess his choice of beverage (not that he can drink alcohol, and at 9am, it wouldn’t be the best idea anyway).

“Louis, what the fuck. Why are you here so early?” Liam demands, setting his mug carefully on the table in case he ends up executing his initial thought of hurling the hot coffee onto his best mate. He doesn’t want to stain his couch.

“Lovely to see you too,” Louis says, an amused glint in his blue eyes. Louis has been letting himself into Liam’s apartment for as long as he can remember. Liam had given him a copy of his door key for emergency purposes, but he took an ‘emergency’ to mean ‘any time he felt like it’. The first time he showed up unannounced, Liam had sat through a particularly long sob story about how Louis’ own apartment was a constant reminder of his not-so-active love life because the couple living on the upper floor kept, quote, ‘going at it like rabbits’ and Louis couldn’t endure it.

“I brought cookies.” Liam takes the bag (or rather, the peace offering) from him, anger forgotten when he opens it to see his favourite peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies from the bakery a few blocks down.

“Martin looked at me all weird again,” Louis says, biting down on a bagel. Liam rolls his eyes; they’ve been through the same story about a thousand times-- Louis is convinced that the old man who owns the bakery is plotting something against him due to the fact that his wife (and co-owner) keeps openly flirting with him and sneaking an extra chocolate tart into his bag from time to time.

“You’re being paranoid,” Liam assures. He taps at Louis’ leg, motioning for him to move over so he can sit down.

“I told him to ‘have a nice day’, and he smiled at me, very creepily might I add, and said ‘you have a better one’, like? What is up with that?”

Liam switches the television on and browses through the channels for something good to watch. “Why do you keep going back there then?”

“‘Cause they sell the best bagels, unlike the pathetic excuse for a bakery in my neighbourhood, and I’d never deprive myself of life’s simple pleasures,” Louis responds, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I don’t know why I put up with you,” Liam says semi-seriously. “Anyway, I had dinner at my parents’ last night and there are leftovers in the fridge if you want it.”

“You’ve been over there a lot lately,” Louis states. Liam stops at a channel where a rerun of The Flash is playing, eyes fixated on the episode as he tries to mentally recall the times he’s been at the house in the past two weeks.

“Eh, yeah, I guess so.”

“Would it happen to have anything to do with the cute boy who lives across the street? Zayn, is it?”

Liam whips his head around so fast he almost gets a crick in his neck. Louis raises his eyebrows, his lips tilting up in amusement. “Wha… I-- How could you possibly know about him?”

“Aha! So it _does_ ,” Louis confirms with a snap of his fingers. “Karen told--”

“You talked to my _mother_ about this? When did this happen?” Liam interjects.

“She seems to be under the impression that you have a little crush.”

Liam groans. “I don’t have a _crush_ on him. What am I, sixteen? Besides, he’s so broody all the time, I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life.”

“Mmhmm,” Louis responds, in the same way that he does every time he thinks he sees right through Liam’s bullshit. “Your dearest mother also asked me to remind you about your appointment tomorrow and if you wanted her to come with?”

“I’ll be there. And no, but I’ll call her to tell her that. I’d really not like to be the subject of more gossip.”

“Alright then, Fun Ruiner. I’m gonna make myself a cuppa. By the way, your shower head is leaking. That’s not a euphemism.”

Liam sighs. “I’m changing the locks to this apartment.”

 

***

 

Zayn crosses paths with Liam many more times in the next few weeks; _too_ many, considering he doesn’t even live in the house. He even meets Niall and Harry again during one of the nights that he comes round (specifically, invites himself round, because the boy doesn’t seem to have an ounce of shame in his body) to Zayn’s, and within an hour they were talking like they’d known each other for years. Liam grins widely at him every time he sees him, offering a wave or a question about how his day is going.

He’s extremely cheerful, never without a smile on his face, and Zayn doesn’t know why it bothers him so much (since his own best mate is basically sunshine personified), but it does. He’d tried to attribute his annoyance to the fact that it seemed Liam was trying to woo him, but Zayn slowly finds out that Liam’s overly friendly and affectionate with _everyone_ , so he’d pushed that sneaking suspicion away. It doesn’t stop him from wanting to disappear every time Liam pops up.

“Waliyha!” Zayn shouts for his sister, rubbing his eyes as he trudges down the stairs one morning. “Stop leaving your hairdryer in the bathro--” he pauses mid-sentence when he spots Liam with his mother and sister in the kitchen.

“What are _you_ doing here?” he hisses, pointing an accusing finger at Liam who’s feigning innocence.

“Zayn!” Trisha snaps in disapproval. “Is that any way to treat our guest?”

“Is he perpetually in a bad mood?” Liam asks Waliyha, making no attempt at lowering his voice.

“I’m right _here_ ,” Zayn scowls.

“Yes, he is,” Waliyha supplies, her expression displaying a mixture of mischief and amusement.

Liam smiles. “It’s fine, Trish, I should probably get going. Hope you like the cupcakes.”

“Thanks, dear,” Trisha replies, beaming, and the casual fondness in her voice rattles Zayn even more. Liam walks towards him until he’s almost too close and tilts his head, lips hovering over Zayn’s ear.

“Cute boxers,” he whispers, before walking past him and out the door. Zayn freezes, openly gaping for a few seconds because he’d completely forgotten about his current state of dress. He looks down at his old Batman boxers and groans in embarrassment. Waliyha cackles loudly behind him and Zayn throws her the finger when their mother has her back turned.

“ _Trish_? Next you’re gonna be sharing recipes and watching cheesy dramas together,” Zayn mutters.

“Oh, hush,” Trisha says, swatting Zayn lightly on the shoulder. “He’s a sweet boy.”

Zayn curiously lifts the lid of the box that Liam had left on their kitchen counter, peering inside it. There are six large chocolate cupcakes, each with rainbow frosting and chocolate sprinkles on top, and they’re so reminiscent of Liam’s personality that he’s sort of put out by them. He doesn’t help himself to one.

He walks out the door a while later, towards Harry who’s waiting by his car as usual, doing a double-take when he zooms in on the cupcake in his hand that looks exactly like the ones Liam had brought to his house.

“Not you too!” Zayn nearly shouts.

Harry pauses, turning to level him with a confused look. “What?”

“The fucking _rainbow cupcake_ , Haz,” he clarifies.

“What’s wrong with it?” Harry asks slowly.

Zayn ignores the question, and mumbles to himself under his breath as he gets in the car. He thinks he just might be losing his mind.

 

***

 

Liam turns the corner to the clinic, looking around the area to ensure that the coast is clear from familiar faces before he pushes the door open. The clinic had just started its operations for the day, so it’s empty inside save for the receptionist at the counter; a girl who couldn’t be much older than Liam, who looks up at him when he enters.

“Hi,” Liam greets.

“Good morning, how may I help you?” she asks in a practiced manner.

“I’m here to see Doctor Corden? Um, I didn’t officially make an appointment but he should be expecting me.”

“Ah, you’re... Liam Payne?” she reads from a post-it note pasted on the computer screen in front of her.

“That’s me.”

“You can go right ahead. Doctor Corden’s office is down the hall here, the second to last door,” she instructs. Liam walks to the door the receptionist instructs him to go to, knocking twice before entering. James, his doctor (and, as luck would have it, a Payne family friend), lowers the newspaper he’s reading as Liam enters, a smile spreading across his face. He stands up to envelop Liam in a hug.

“Hey, Li, it’s good to see ya.”

“Good to see you too.”

“How’ve you been? How are Karen and Geoff?”

“They moved here last month, thought it’d be easier to handle my, um, medical matters if we lived in the same city. They’re great, thanks for asking. And you? London treating you well?”

“Yeah, it’s been ace but Wolverhampton’s still home, you know?”

Liam nods in understanding.

“Alright, let’s get to it,” James continues, pulling out Liam’s folder from his desk drawer. Liam tries to maintain his concentration as James looks through the documents of Liam’s tests from back in their hometown, explaining each aspect to him in detail.

“Have you been feeling alright? Anything significant you think I should know about?” he asks as an afterthought.

“Uh, I get dizzy more often than I used to. Tire out pretty easily.”

“I’ll put you on a new treatment plan. You’ll need more medication to ease the pain and some iron tablets to raise your haemoglobin levels. I’ll prescribe some diuretics and digoxin as well.”

Liam nods. “Any updates on the transplant?”

James turns the page of a folder he’s holding. “Well, you’ve already been deemed as a suitable candidate, the waiting list right now puts you at about a 6-month wait. That’s a really rough estimation, but it isn’t a long period, all things considered, so that’s positive. Though you should know that circumstances can change at any time. The best case scenario is, of course, that your condition looks up and you won’t need the transplant.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” Liam says.

“Do you have any other questions?”

Liam thinks about it for a second. “Could we maybe meet somewhere less formal next time? Hospitals and clinics make me queasy.”

“Consider it done.”

 

***

 

Liam walks down the street, thoughts filled with test results and transplants and other factors related to his illness that continue to be his main concern, that he almost doesn’t spot Zayn entering a museum some distance in front of him. He follows the other boy in before he can think against it, finding himself in the middle of an art exhibition.

For a second he’s struck by the sheer number of works scattered around the area that he doesn’t see where he’s going when he turns around, bumping into someone in the process. That someone turns out to be Zayn himself, who has his head lifted to apologise but stops when he realises that it’s Liam. Zayn’s forehead creases, silence passing through them, and Liam immediately tries to diffuse the tension.

“You know, if you keep following me everywhere, I might start thinking that you’re into me,” Liam jests, widening the smile on his face.

Zayn scoffs in response, folding his arms across his body. “I could say the same thing about you.”

“Eh,” Liam shrugs. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s a public exhibition.”

Zayn’s expression is pinched. “Don’t you have school or work or someone else to bother?”

“I’m taking a gap year so no, not yet, and probably.”

Zayn walks past Liam, intentionally bumping his shoulder against the other boy’s to show his contempt. This doesn’t faze Liam, only spurs him on as he continues to keep in pace with him. “So, what brings you here?”

Zayn takes a picture of a painting in front of him and checks to see if it’s clear. “If you must know, I’m considering submitting a painting to be showcased in New York, and I’m trying to get some inspiration for it.”

“You paint?” Liam asks. Zayn ignores him at first and tries to concentrate on reading the description of the painting, but he gives in when he quickly finds out that Liam doesn’t have any intention of leaving him alone.

“Yeah, uh, in my free time,” he says distractedly. “The ones who are chosen get a place in an internship as part of the arts program there.”

Zayn moves to another painting, with Liam still on his tail. Liam knows he’s being a pest but his interest is piqued and he wants to know more. “If you want to go into the arts, why are you studying engineering?”

Zayn suddenly stops in the middle of the room, which causes Liam to just about bump into him, having to reach out to hold onto his arm for balance. He’s caught off guard by the warmth that goes through him at Zayn’s touch and the lingering feeling of loss when he takes his hand off.

“Zayn?” someone says from behind them. Zayn’s lips tilt into a smile when he sees the person, and Liam frowns despite himself-- _he’s never made the boy smile like that_.

“Hey Isaac, you alright?” he greets.

“‘M good. Should’ve known you’d be here too,” Isaac says, mirroring his smile.

“Hi,” Liam interjects loudly. “I’m Liam.” He puts an arm around Zayn, inwardly cringing at his own actions. Isaac’s smile fades slightly as his gaze flickers to Liam and back to Zayn a few times. An expression that Liam can’t really place crosses Isaac’s face, but he snaps out of it after a second.

“Isaac, nice to meet you,” Isaac offers.

“Did you just get here?” Zayn asks. Liam feels Zayn shuffle to the side, wiggling his shoulders in an attempt to get Liam’s arm off of him without being too obvious, which Liam does.

“Nah, like an hour ago. I was actually about to leave, so--”

“Oh, okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Definitely. See you.” Zayn tears his eyes away from Isaac, who heads in the direction of the exit and disappears from view.

“Who’s that?” Liam asks.

“You ask a lot of questions,” Zayn remarks.

“You’re not that great at answering them,” Liam retorts. “I’m just curious, is all.”

Zayn lets out a breath. “He’s a mate from university. We have a couple of classes together.”

“Ah,” Liam says, rocking from side to side. “Say, doesn’t that sculpture over there look like a penis?”

 

***

 

Liam had every intention of staying in for the night, but Niall had texted him with an invitation to go to a club downtown with Harry and Zayn, and he couldn’t refuse (if his eyes lingered a bit longer on Zayn’s name even after he sent a reply, well, no one has to know).

They’ve been at the club for close to two hours, and Liam’s been watching Zayn on and off for the past fifteen minutes as the other boy looks out to the dance floor. It hadn’t seemed like he even wanted to come along when Liam met them outside his house, and that fact just became more apparent as the night went on. Zayn had gone from sitting in a booth to standing by the bar, but it wasn’t much progress.

“What’re you doing here all on your lonesome?” Liam asks, approaching him. “Have a drink, at least.” He motions for the bartender to come over. “Two tequila shots for my pal, here.”

“Why aren’t _you_ drinking?” Zayn demands.

“I can’t-- I mean, I don’t drink. I know you do, though. Go on.”

Zayn glares at Liam but picks up a shot glass that the bartender had placed in front of them before downing it in one go. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, cringing a little at the strong taste.

“Well?” Liam urges. He starts dancing -- or at least, he tries to -- shaking his body to the music. He looks at Zayn expectantly as if waiting for him to do the same, but he just seems uncomfortable and a bit mortified.

“I’m good,” Zayn says. “I don’t dance.”

Liam attempts a moonwalk, and it gets the tiniest of smiles out of Zayn, so he can’t seem to care that he’s making a fool out of himself. When Zayn still makes no attempt at moving from his spot, Liam stops, slumping against the bar counter. “C’mon Zayn, loosen up, have some fun for once!”

“I can have fun, I’ll have you know,” Zayn replies.

“Prove it,” Liam challenges. Just as soon as the words leave his mouth, Zayn’s face hardens, his eyes set with determination. He downs the second shot, and signals for more. Liam moves to the dance floor, past a throng of people. He doesn’t know how much time passes, just loses himself in the music, the thumping beats resonating in his head. When he turns to get some water from the bar, his shoulder knocks into someone by accident. Zayn appears right in front of him, gazing intensely at him, so close that he can almost feel his body heat.

“We need to stop bumping into each other like this,” Liam utters with a laugh.

“Leeyum!” Zayn hiccups, his body swaying out of time to the music.

“What happened to ‘I don’t dance’?” Liam asks, quirking his brow.

“I said I don’t, doesn’t mean I can’t,” Zayn leans in, putting his hands on Liam’s waist. Liam can smell the alcohol in his breath. “You look hot when you’re all sweaty.”

Zayn pulls back, and Liam is grateful for the darkness of the club when he feels his cheeks heat up. Zayn’s eyes gleam, and it’s then that Liam realises that he’s definitely had too much to drink and -- with a pang of guilt -- he’s the one who enabled it. He leads a reluctant Zayn away from the dance floor and to a booth, where (thankfully) Harry’s seated.

“Harold!” Zayn says before collapsing into giggles in the booth.

Harry looks at him for a moment. “Good lord, how much has he had?”

“I don’t know,” Liam replies honestly. “A lot?”

Harry shakes his head. “It’s late. I’m gonna look for Niall. Meet you outside?”

Liam nods. Harry walks away, leaving him alone with Zayn again.

“Hazza, help me up,” Zayn orders, flailing his arms.

“Oookay, let’s go,” Liam says, pulling the boy up and moving his arm so that it falls across his shoulders.

“You’re not Harry,” Zayn whines when he spares Liam a glance, disappointment clear on his face. Liam tries not to take it to heart.

“He’s busy at the moment.”

Zayn is like dead weight in Liam’s arms, and he struggles to keep him upright as they move past the swarm of people. Liam sighs in relief when they finally step outside, the cool air serving as a welcoming contrast to the heat inside the club. Harry leaves about five minutes later with an equally hammered Niall in tow. Liam shifts when Zayn buries his face in the crook of his neck. He can’t tell if it’s the fresh air or the alcohol, but Zayn’s become more touchy-feely with him and Liam’s somewhat bothered by it, considering how he’s treated him so far.

“You smell nice, Leeyum,” Zayn slurs as they walk down the street that leads to the carpark. “Like the beach. My dad used to take me to the beach when I was a kid.”

Zayn brings his arms around Liam’s torso, pushing their bodies unnecessarily closer together, and Liam stiffens at the action. Zayn tuts petulantly, squeezing until Liam eventually relaxes. “After baba died, and ‘cause my mum’s catering business hasn’t been able to take off, she and dadi argue almost everyday,” Zayn continues, softer this time.

Liam doesn’t know how to react to Zayn’s words; he’s totally sure Zayn wouldn’t want him to know something so personal if he wasn’t currently inebriated. “And I try my best, but it’s like nothing I do is right according to my dadi. Not the way I dress, my grades, my sexuality--”

“Zaynie!” Niall yells drunkenly from behind them as he attempts and succeeds in getting himself out of Harry’s grip. Liam had almost forgotten about their presence. Niall puts an arm around Zayn, pulling him away from Liam, who feels the same strange emptiness at the loss of contact.

“You are the bestest, smartest, most hardworking person I know,” Niall slurs. “If that’s not enough then fuck ‘em!”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck ‘em,” Zayn nods very seriously, hanging onto Niall’s every word like he’s giving him the cure for cancer. “Thanks Ni, you always know what to say.”

“Love ya, man,” Niall says.

“I love you too,” Zayn replies. Niall tugs him closer, randomly breaking into an awfully out-of-tune version of Don’t Stop Believing and urging him to sing along. Liam watches the pair walk away. He doesn’t even realise that he had stopped in his tracks until he hears Harry speak up.

“The car’s up ahead.” He turns to face Harry, who’s giving him a slightly assessing look, and he tears his gaze away. He doesn’t want the younger boy to try and decipher what’s going through his head when he doesn’t even understand it himself. Liam clears his throat.

“Okay. Niall’s apartment is just up the street, right? I’ll drop him off and you and Zayn can stay over at my place.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

 

***

 

“Zayn. Zayn! _Zaynieeee_ ,” Harry whispers fiercely, interrupting Zayn’s slumber. Zayn opens his eyes and is greeted with a blurry outline of the former curly-haired boy on his bed who’s shaking him awake by the shoulders.

“Fuck off, Haz,” Zayn mumbles, pulling his blanket over his head that Harry abruptly pulls back down anyway. He’s absolutely going to _murder_ him.

“There’s someone in the kitchen,” Harry says, keeping his voice low.

“Wha--,” Zayn’s words get cut off by a yawn. He’s barely gained enough consciousness to process any of this and his head is pounding. “What are you on about? Where are we?”

“Liam’s apartment. Not the point. Unknown. Half. Naked. Guy. In. The. Kitchen,” Harry repeats, placing proper emphasis on each word.

“If he isn’t stealing any of the furniture or has a weapon of some sort in his hands, then it’s not my problem.”

“Zaynie!” Harry whines. “What if he’s tied Liam up and shoved him in the closet?”

Zayn huffs and reluctantly gets off his bed, more to shut the boy up than anything else. He heads to the door, not bothering to put a shirt on (he can’t be certain if anyone had undressed him last night or if he did it himself, but he’s too out of it at the moment to think very much into it).

“Wait!” Harry hisses, grabbing hold of the nearest semi-threatening item he can find among Liam’s things-- in this case, a golf club, and passes it to Zayn. He rolls his eyes, but takes it anyway to humour him. “Okay, go!”

Zayn tiptoes out of the room, slowly trailed by Harry. He peers carefully into the kitchen when he reaches it, but it’s empty, with no sign of any other human in sight.

“Is this some kind of joke?” Zayn demands.

“No! I swear, there was someone here!” Harry insists.

“Enough of this, I’m going back to bed.”

The door to the bathroom swings open as they’re walking back to the room they were in, and they find themselves face-to-face with the person that Harry was talking about. Zayn involuntarily yelps in surprise at his sudden appearance, lifting the golf club up in front of him to act as a barrier. Harry echoes the sound and clutches onto him like a koala.

“Um, hello,” Half-Naked Guy says, confusion etched across his face. His wet brown hair slumps across his forehead. There’s a smattering of tattoos on his arms and chest, a hand tugging on his boxers. His eyes are slightly wide, but other than that, he doesn’t seem particularly perturbed by their presence but instead, by their reactions to him.

Another door across from the bathroom opens, and Liam steps out. Zayn quickly puts the golf club down. He assumes that Liam’s been up for a while, judging by his hair that’s still damp and his fresh change of clothes. “Morning! Oh, you’re both awake, great, I was about to start making breakfast. Do you prefer your eggs scrambled or sunny side up?” Liam approaches them, pausing to peer curiously at the golf club that Zayn is quickly trying (and failing) to conceal behind his back. His face burns in embarrassment.

“Liam,” Harry pipes up from beside Zayn, relaxing his grip on him. “You know this... this _small_ person?”

“Small?” Half-Naked Guy repeats, affronted. “I’ll have you know, I-- oof!”

His retort is cut off by Liam’s elbow nudging his ribs. Zayn notices the subtle warning glare Liam throws the boy before turning back to him and Harry. “Sorry, would’ve given you a warning but I didn’t exactly have an opportunity to last night. This is Louis, my best mate. He stays over sometimes,” Liam explains. “Lou, this is Zayn and Harry. Zayn lives across the street from my parents.”

Comprehension dawns on Louis’ face, and he gives Zayn a considering look like he knows much more than he lets on. Zayn shifts under his gaze-- he’d rather not know what Liam’s told him.

“I’d say it’s nice to meet you, lads, but you did almost knock me over the head a minute ago,” Louis says, though his tone is good-natured and teasing.

Zayn lets out a short cough. “Sorry. Harry was a bit, um, paranoid.” Harry’s cheeks have turned a deep red. Zayn thinks he really should reconsider his choice of friends.

 

***

 

Liam walks into the cafe, joining the queue as he rummages in his pocket for some money to buy a frappuccino. He still has an hour before he’s due to meet James there, but a tiny feeling of panic goes through him when he tilts his head to the side and sees a familiar head of platinum blond hair at the front of the line. Niall turns around before Liam can even think about leaving, grinning broadly when he sees him.

“Liam! Hey! What’re you getting? Y’can order with me. My treat.”

They occupy one of the empty tables by the window after collecting their drinks.

“How’re you doing?” Liam asks.

“Good. I’m supposed to meet Zayn here, actually, we made plans to study together but he’s late, as usual,” Niall says with a glance at his watch.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Liam says carefully. “How did you and Zayn meet?”

“In sixth form,” Niall replies, adding sugar into his mug and stirring the coffee. “I’d just transferred schools from Ireland. Sat beside him in one of our classes and the rest is history and all that.”

Liam fiddles with the handle of his own mug. “I was just curious as to how you two get along so well when you’re so happy all the time and he’s…uh, not.”

Niall bites his lip. “He used to be more of a cheerful lad. But-- you know about his dad right? He passed away ‘bout two years ago and it affected him and his family really badly. He became closed off, stopped doing well in school, his boyfriend at the time broke up with him, and he was a complete mess. He’s doing a lot better now, but I don’t think you can totally get over somethin’ like that. That’s how Zayn is, ya know? He has his moods and things like that, but he’s a good lad and a great mate.”

“I don’t think he likes me very much,” Liam claims.

“He doesn’t really dislike people. It just takes a while for him to get comfortable with someone. Be patient with him, I’d say.”

“‘Course. I’ll try.”

Liam leaves the cafe right before Zayn arrives, after making up an excuse that Niall buys. He’d texted James to meet at a different location far enough away. He spots the man already seated at one of the small, wooden tables at a corner of another, more secluded cafe, engrossed in a novel.

“Hey, man,” Liam greets, taking the seat across from him.

“Hi, Li,” James replies. His brows are knitted in a frown, bags weighing his eyes down.

“Why are you looking so glum?” Liam asks, reaching out to push the sides of James’ mouth upwards into a smile.

“Liam,” James says exasperatedly, swatting his hand away. Liam smile grows even wider.

“It’s sunny out, birds are chirping, flowers are blooming--”

“Can you stop fooling around for five seconds, please?”

Liam pauses, looking around the area as he taps his foot against the ground restlessly. “...Four...Five! Time’s up!”

“Right, I’m gonna go ‘cause you are _impossible_.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Liam raises his hands in surrender when James gets off the chair to follow through with his threat. “What’s so important that you wanted to meet? My next appointment isn’t for another few weeks.”

“It, um, it couldn’t wait. It’s not great news.”

“I can take it, James, I’m a big boy,” Liam jests, even though dread already overwhelms him. He watches as James mulls over words in his head, like he’s trying to figure out the best way to approach the issue.

“There’s been a… setback on the donor front. You were due to possibly get the transplant within 6 months, but it’s been extended, significantly. There’s a shortage of organ donors as it is, and those who don’t need a transplant as urgently are being pushed down the waiting list. I did warn you that there was a possibility of this happening.”

“Okay, well, how long is it now?” Liam asks.

“As of this morning, it’s at 18 months. I’m sorry, Liam,” James admits. Liam leans back in his seat, letting out a breath. One year. That’s 365 days more time for him (from the initial 6 months) to have to wait for a transplant that might not even happen, if he can’t find the right match. 365 additional days of stress and uncertainty. Liam nods in acknowledgement, heaviness weighing down his chest.

“We’ll have to maintain your condition as much as we can, for now. You have to stay on your treatment plan. That means taking your medication. I don’t care how much you don’t like taking them, it’s for your own good. I’ll get you back up the list,” James assures him firmly. “Whatever it takes.”

 

***

 

Zayn walks down the hallway hesitantly, not sure of what he’s expecting, but he can’t shake off the fact that he’d rather be in the comfort of his own bed. Louis had invited all of them to hang out at his apartment and he’d promised Harry earlier in school that he’d at least make an effort for the night, so he shrugged on a pair of jeans and a semi-decent flannel shirt.

He even did something different to his hair and spritzed a bit of cologne before leaving his house. That doesn’t stop him from wanting to double back down the hallway after knocking on the door to the apartment, but it swings open before he can act on his thoughts.

“Zayn! You made it,” Louis says, a warm smile spreading across his face. Zayn feels himself relax a little. “The lads are in the guest room. I’m gonna refill the popcorn, you go on ahead.”

“Thank you,” Zayn lets out. He takes in the interior of the apartment, and is pleasantly surprised at how homey it looks. The walls are painted a simple, nude colour, with wooden furniture cluttering the space. He walks in the direction Louis had gestured towards, almost tripping on a fluffy brown cat that speeds past him. A row of framed pictures catches his eye.

He pauses in front of one of the pictures. It’s of Louis and Liam, who couldn’t be more than 10 years old in their school uniforms, with their arms around each other, beaming at the camera. He gazes at it for a couple of moments longer, a small smile playing on his lips. He instantly gets jolted out of his trance when he hears a voice come from behind him.

“That’s the first picture we ever took together,” Louis imparts, casual fondness seeping out of his voice. “We didn’t even like each other when we first met, actually. But I’ll admit I wasn’t exactly the best influence on him.”

“You’re protective of him,” Zayn notes; that much he can tell, even if he only knows a little about their friendship. “I admire that.”

“He’s my best mate, I’ll always look out for him,” Louis shrugs like it’s not a big deal, before giving Zayn the same look as he did when they first met, but this time, there’s something that looks like a plea in his eyes. “I know the both of you haven’t really got on, but I hope you’ll give him more of a chance.”

Zayn nods curtly. “That’s why I’m here, innit?”

“Yeah, guess you’re right,” Louis huffs in resignation. “Let’s go. I just met Niall, but I think he might chop someone’s head off if I don’t bring him more popcorn soon.”

Zayn sniggers. _That_ , he knows almost too well.

 

***

 

“Look who’s here,” Louis announces as they walk into the guest room Louis mentioned. It’s not really a bedroom at all, more like a living room. It’s much cosier than Zayn had expected, with two large couches surrounding a table, and a flat screen TV perched a few feet away on the wall. Niall, Harry, and Liam are splayed out lazily on the couches, and they divert their attention from the football game they’re playing to Louis when they hear his voice.

“Zaynie! You came,” Niall says, his grin lighting up his entire face. He sits up and passes him a beer. Zayn accepts it gratefully, and Niall scoots over a little so that Zayn can sit next to him.

“Hey, lads,” Zayn greets.

“Hi,” Liam says, gesturing at the two opened boxes of pizza on the table. “Help yourself.”

Zayn spends the next hour watching in amusement as Niall and Louis play a couple more rounds of the football game while Liam gives them advice. Zayn thinks it’s more like he’s shouting out confusing instructions that causes Niall to get incredibly flustered and Louis to swear like a sailor, ultimately getting them nowhere in the game.

He also can’t help but notice the smitten looks Harry gives Louis when he cracks a dumb joke or makes a sarcastic remark. He raises an eyebrow at Harry in question when the boy meets his eyes, but he’s only met with a sheepish smile and a barely-there shrug.

They decide to put on a film a while later, and after some intense bickering between Liam (Iron Man marathon) and Louis (anything with Leonardo DiCaprio), they end up going with Liam’s choice, much to his satisfaction. Fatigue takes over during their third film of the night, and Zayn ends up falling asleep because the next thing he knows, he hears his name being called and he opens his eyes blearily. He first sees Liam looming over him, his hand on his shoulder, and for a split second it feels like he’s still dreaming. He looks over at the television screen to see the credits rolling.

“Shit,” Zayn mutters. “Missed the second half.”

“Not that it matters, you’ve seen the film about twenty times,” Harry chimes in from his spot on the couch.

“He has?” Louis asks. “Wow, we might’ve found someone who’s a bigger superhero nerd than you, Li, I didn’t think it was possible.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “Very funny. Think I’m calling it a night, lads. I have, um, something on in the morning.”

“I should go too, gotta bring Safaa to her music school,” Zayn explains, trying to get rid of the slight ache in his neck after falling asleep at an odd angle.

“She’s still having her piano lessons?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, um, my mum hasn’t been able to break the news to her yet. She’s still hoping to find a teacher who’ll charge less.”

They bid their goodbyes and step out of the house into the cold windy night.

“I’ll give you a ride home,” Liam pipes up from behind Zayn.

“No, that’s okay. I’ll take the bus.”

“Really, it’s not a problem. I’m staying over at my parents’ tonight anyway.”

Zayn relents. He’d rather endure fifteen minutes alone with Liam than spend triple that amount of time riding the bus. It’s mostly silent on the drive back, broken only when the car halts with a screech in front of Zayn’s house.

“You know, I’m curious as to what your problem is,” Liam says suddenly, and Zayn jerks his head to look at him. He sees no malice behind Liam’s expression, but he’s still taken aback by the statement.

“ _My_ problem?” Zayn asks, bewildered.

“You’re just-- you seem so bothered by something all the time. You act like you’re carrying the weight of the entire world on your shoulders. Not everyone is out to get you, you know.”

“Y-- you don’t know shit about me, or my life,” Zayn hisses.

“I don’t claim to, but it’s not wrong to let your guard down. Live your life to the fullest, ‘cause tomorrow isn’t certain,” Liam continues. He gives Zayn a look like he can read his thoughts and it makes him feel unsettled. “Look at me, getting all philosophical,” Liam continues, seeming pleased with himself. “Seriously, though. Be happy, Zayn. Smile more, it looks great on you.”

“Wh-- I-- You-- _Fuck off_ ,” Zayn snaps, scowling at Liam for good measure, but the exaggerated grin that spreads across Liam’s face forces Zayn to turn away when his traitorous lips twitch upwards. He opens the door with a bit more force than usual and steps out of the car.

“See you tomorrow, Zaynie,” Liam says as he walks up the pavement.

“Wouldn’t count on it,” Zayn shouts, not bothering to look back.

 

***

 

Liam watches Zayn as he walks in a sleepy daze to the fridge, pulling the door open and reaching for a jug of milk.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Liam says. Zayn almost knocks his head against the door.

“Who keeps letting you in?!” Zayn demands, displeasure dripping from his tone.

“You’re a real delight in the morning, aren’t you?” Liam comments.

“Why are you even here?”

“You’re looking at Safaa’s new piano teacher,” Liam explains, extending his arms out. “You said something last night about Safaa possibly having to stop her lessons? I talked to Trisha. She won’t have to anymore. I can teach her.”

“Oh,” Zayn says, visibly regretful at the way he snapped at Liam. “Well. Thank you. That’s… really nice of you. I didn’t know you could play the piano.”

“Have since I was 15. I couldn’t leave the house whenever I-- uh, I’d play when I was bored and had nothing else to do, basically.”

“So you’re going to be here even more often now?”

Liam puts his arms on the counter and leans forward. “Yeah, d’you have a problem with that?”

“Not really,” Zayn deadpans. “How else would you have the pleasure of being around my delightful self?”

“Sarcastic. I like it.”

 

***

 

Liam doesn’t even bat an eye when he gets back to his apartment later in the day to see Louis lounging on his couch in only boxers and mismatched socks.

“I hope you didn’t drink the last of my apple juice again,” Liam says.

“Nope, I even bought you a new carton, and restocked your cereal and bread. Granted, I’ll end up eating most of it again, but still. Thought that counts and whatever.”

Liam opens the cabinets and fridge carefully, checking for anything suspicious, but Louis had really done as he said. It makes Liam weary. “Alright, what d’you want?”

“What makes you think I want something?”

“Don’t even try it, Lou.”

“Fine. Harry’s heading up to his parents’ summer cabin in Cheshire in two weeks and he invited us.”

“What’s the problem with that?”

Louis blinks. “I assumed you wouldn’t want to go ‘cause, you know, Zayn will be there.”

“I’m okay with it. It’s him who seems to have an issue with me.”

“Oh, well, that’s great then! Forget about Zayn, he’ll get over it,” Louis assures. “The cabin’s in the woods, right next to a lake.”

“That sounds like a setting of a horror movie. What if Harry turns out to be an axe murderer or a cannibal?” Liam asks, trying to maintain a straight face. Louis gives him a perplexed and moderately offended look.

“Harry almost tripped on a dog and _apologized_ to it. I think we’ll be fine.”

“Since when do you like the outdoors anyway? You don’t even like to _walk_ , you drive or take the bus all the time, even to the store that’s like ten minutes away.”

Louis gasps in mock horror. “Not _all_ the time.”

“You said anybody who runs for fun are spawns of the devil,” Liam states, shooting Louis a pointed look, and the older boy slumps in resignation.

“Fine, you caught me,” he mumbles, crossing his arms over his body. “I like Harry, and I want to spend more time with him. Happy that I admitted it?”

Liam grins, satisfied. “Very.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “I’ll text you the details. Oh, and you need to fix the loose floorboard in the kitchen.”

“Piss off.”

 

***

 

“What do you think-- red or blue?” Harry asks, holding up two similar floral printed shirts in front of Zayn. Zayn groans, long and loud, burying his face in a pillow on Harry’s bed.

“Blue it is, then,” Harry mutters to himself before hanging the red shirt back in his cupboard. “What happened?”

“I hate how Liam thinks he’s got me all figured out. He basically said that I’m making myself miserable and that I should stop seeking approval from others. The fuck does he even know?”

“But... there _is_ some truth to that,” Harry says, a little carefully, after a moment’s pause. Zayn throws the pillow across the room, hitting Harry square in the chest.

“Hey!” Harry whines, the shirt still halfway up his arms. “I’m in a vulnerable state.”

“Are you seriously taking his side over mine?” he scolds. “I _know_ it’s true, but who is he to say it? Just when I thought that-- never mind.”

“Thought what? I think he fancies you, you know,” Harry voices with a small smirk.

“Forget it. He’s insufferable.”

“He took over Safaa’s piano lessons,” Harry points out.

“Yeah, and it’s brilliant that my mum can save some extra money, but it’s just-- it’s confusing. It’s like he’s two different people sometimes.”

“Speaking of fancy, I invited Louis to the cabin this year, and he’ll probably invite Liam, so fair warning.”

“You only invited Louis ‘cause you want to get into his pants,” Zayn retorts, trying hard to ignore the unwelcome swooping in his stomach at the mention of smiley boys with warm brown eyes.

“No, I didn’t,” Harry retorts. “But let’s just say, if there’s a chance of that happening, I’ll let it. He’s fit, mate.”

Zayn sighs. “It’s gonna be a long weekend.”

 

***

 

Zayn has his bags loaded into the boot of Harry’s car that’s parked in the usual spot outside his house and is leaning against it, cigarette in hand.

“Good morning!” Liam greets as he approaches Zayn, a toothy grin plastered on his face. Zayn casts his eyes downwards, eyeing the bright yellow top that the other boy is wearing in distaste.

“Are you always this happy at seven in the morning?” Zayn inquires. It cannot be humanly possible for someone to be so annoyingly cheerful when the sun’s barely risen. He personally _really_ needs some strong coffee. And maybe another ten hours in bed.

“Are you always this cranky?” Liam retorts. “Wait, don’t answer that. You’re cranky no matter what time it is.” He reaches out to ruffle Zayn’s hair, to his vehement protests. “Cheer up, sleepyhead.”

Zayn takes a last drag from the cigarette before putting it out. The car isn’t large, so he finds himself squeezed in between Niall and Liam in the backseat (after Harry had silently pleaded for him to let Louis ride shotgun). Despite his fairly uncomfortable position, he ends up falling asleep, awakening just as the car emits a loud and sudden gurgling noise when they reach the forest clearing.

“Please tell me that was Niall’s stomach,” Louis speaks up from the front seat.

“Fuck off, Lou,” Niall retorts, but there’s no real heat behind his words. The car continues to emit strange noises the longer it moves, gradually losing its speed until it stops completely on the road.

“Stupid car,” Harry mutters. He steps out of the car, lifting the bonnet up and peering inside. The boys follow him out, one after another.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Liam asks.

“Not really. My uncle can fix whatever’s wrong but he’ll probably only be able to come over after work. There’s no use waiting here, we can walk up to the cabin first.”

“It’s a twenty minute walk uphill!” Niall whines.

“Unless you can think of a better idea, Ni, we haven’t got much of a choice.”

Zayn huffs, his thoughts only directed at the fact that there’s a bed awaiting him at the top. They take their bags from the car, leaving the vehicle where it is as Harry leads the way, glancing on and off at the map on his phone. They’re about to arrive at the cabin when Liam suddenly bends down and clutches at his chest, letting out a few strangled coughs. Zayn gasps in surprise and quickly steps towards him, but Louis is by his side almost at once, placing a hand on Liam’s back and rubbing it soothingly.

“You alright, Liam?” Harry asks, forehead scrunched in worry.

“I’m fine,” Liam lets out weakly. “Just need to catch my breath.”

“You might be less fit than I am,” Niall jokes. Liam manages to give them a small smile and Zayn finds himself relaxing. It’s only some time later, when he realises that his gaze keeps flicking to Liam for the rest of the trek, that he’s more than concerned for the other boy. It’s a complete change from the disdain that he’s shown so far. He doesn’t know what to feel about this development.

 

***

 

Liam is awed by the beauty of the cabin and its surroundings. It’s large, clean, and well-furnished, complete with a fireplace and kitchen. A large glass window makes up one side of the cabin, with a beautiful view of the lake in the distance.

“I’ll take the couch,” Niall announces, throwing his bag on it.

“Um, wouldn’t it be better if you roomed with Zayn?” Liam asks carefully.

“No,” Zayn chimes in. “Violent sleeper. He’s knocked me off beds a few times.”

Liam can’t shake off the discomfort, due to the fact that he isn’t sure if Zayn is really okay with sharing a room with him or if he’s only doing it since he doesn’t have another choice. “Oh, okay.”

He walks into the room-- there’s a queen-sized bed in the middle of it, a dresser and bedside table on each side. Liam glances at Zayn, who’s looking at the bed warily.

“I can sleep on the floor,” Liam suggests.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Zayn replies. “It’s fine.”

Liam nods. He puts his bag down on the floor next to the right side of the bed while Zayn does the same on the left. Zayn heads outside after, probably for a smoke. Liam walks out after unpacking his bag to find the living room empty. He plops himself on the largest couch, closing his eyes. He’s uneasy about his little coughing fit earlier.

He hadn’t expected to exert much so soon, but he’d thought that he’d at least be able to make the walk without it having some form of impact on his body. The worried faces of the other boys -- Zayn especially -- have been ingrained in his mind since it happened, and it’s exactly what he’d been trying to avoid.

Liam’s thoughts are interrupted when Louis jumps on the couch, tickling him all over. Liam laughs, trying to get the boy off him but they somehow scuffle about until Louis is straddling him. They hear the door swing open and Niall walks in, closely followed by Zayn, whose expression is unreadable.

“Are we intruding, boys?” Niall asks, on the verge of laughter. Liam narrows his eyes. Louis is completely unfazed, as usual, pushing himself off of the couch. He saunters over to the two boys.

“Any updates on Hazza’s car?” Louis asks as Liam gets up, looking anywhere but at Zayn.

“His uncle should get it running again by tonight when he drops by, or tomorrow if he has to bring it back to the workshop,” Zayn says. Liam can almost feel Zayn’s eyes burn into him even when Louis was the one who asked the question.

“Either way, it’ll be fixed before we leave,” Niall adds.

“Great,” Louis quips. “The lake is looking particularly inviting. Up for a swim, lads?”

 

***

 

The door creaks open and Liam strolls into the room with only a towel wrapped around his waist. Zayn can’t help but glance at his body and the way the residual water droplets glisten as they drip down. He averts his eyes, cheeks staining pink.

“Sorry, forgot to bring my clothes to the bathroom with me,” Liam explains sheepishly.

Zayn suddenly finds his hands very interesting, not daring to look up at Liam again. The mattress dips when Liam sits on it a few minutes later, drying his hair with the towel. He notes that the shirt Liam has on fits snugly on him, his broad shoulders filling the material out. He tears his gaze away to look at the clock on the wall that reflects 1:34AM. The past two days have been eventful; from cycling down the forest trail, swimming at the lake, to jamming and playing board games by the fireplace.

With the fresh feeling from the shower gone, exhaustion creeps in. He pushes his body further down the bed, lying down completely, and rests his head on the pillow, facing away from Liam. He isn’t able to fall asleep, too many thoughts swirling around in his head. After a long while, he turns over and is somewhat surprised to see Liam still awake, eyes open and staring at the ceiling. Zayn mirrors his action, until the silence becomes too much to handle.

“Have you ever felt guilty about your sexuality?” Zayn gushes. He isn’t sure why he’s suddenly let out a personal question to someone he’s only known for a few months, but it’s out in the open, so he decides to keep going anyway before he can think better of it. “‘Cause, um, I do. I’ve sorta always known about my attraction to boys, but my grandmother, she-- she’s really homophobic so I’ve never felt like I could fully be myself even in my own home and that’s played a big role as to why I can come across as cold or distant sometimes, I think…” he trails off, wondering if he’s said too much.

For a second, he wildly thinks Liam has pretended not to hear him or simply isn’t going to respond.

“I only had girlfriends up until I was about 18,” Liam says. “I was confused about my sexuality for a long time. In a way, the fact that I could like boys too was difficult for me to accept. But I did, eventually, and I’m proud of who I am now. My dad didn’t talk to me for weeks when I came out, but he came around. Your grandma will too,” Liam assures.

“I hope so,” Zayn replies, turning his head to look at Liam.

Liam moves his entire body so that he faces Zayn. “Hey, Zayn? Listen... I know that I can be eccentric, and say or do a lot of things without thinking sometimes. But I’ve never had the intention of insulting you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I haven’t exactly been the best person to be around either.”

Liam lets out a chuckle. “Calling a truce, then?”

“Maybe,” Zayn says with a smile. Silence falls between them, but it isn’t uncomfortable. He finds himself easily drifting off to sleep after that.

 

***

 

The next morning, Liam carries two bags full of trash to the large bin outside the cabin, pushing the lid up with the side of his arm, throwing the bags in one at a time. When he raises his head, he sees Zayn standing near him, a grin on his face and Niall’s guitar case slung over his shoulder.

“Hi,” Zayn says. He looks even more beautiful than usual under the natural light of the sun, wearing a low cut white shirt that exposes the tattoos at the top of his chest and some dark jeans that fit his legs perfectly. Liam doesn’t think it’s fair that he looks like a Greek God even in a simple outfit like that and he sort of resents him for it.

“Hi,” Liam echoes.

“Do you have a minute?” Zayn asks. “I need your opinion on something.”

“Sure,” he answers, turning to look up at the cabin. “The lads won’t burn it down while we’re gone, will they?”

“I think they’ll manage.”

Zayn guides them down a narrow path to a secluded area about five minutes from the cabin. It’s right by the lake, giving them a lovely view of a pier on the other side of it. Liam mindlessly kicks at a rock on the ground, watching as it falls into the water. They settle down on tree barks that are large enough for them to sit comfortably on.

“I come here to be alone sometimes,” Zayn admits. “It’s peaceful.”

“It is,” Liam agrees, feeling something stir inside him at the fact that Zayn’s willingly led him to his own sanctuary. He pulls the guitar out from the case and plays a few random chords.

“I’ve been working on some of my own songs,” Zayn begins, fingers fiddling with the knobs on the guitar as he tunes it.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” Liam half-jokes.

Zayn smiles. “I’ve never really sung in public before, so not many people know I can. I stopped writing for a while too, but I’ve been feeling inspired lately, so I looked for my old drafts and started again.” Zayn lifts his head. “Could I maybe play one for you? We have similar music tastes so I thought, you know,” he asks after a moment. He looks nervous about it, which Liam finds completely endearing.

“Yeah, of course,” Liam says. Zayn takes a breath before beginning to sing.

 _Can your heart be mine in search?_  
_Cause I have no time to help you find all the words_  
_Melodies and memories, stories that sound absurd_

Liam’s gaze is fixated on Zayn as he gets into the song. He studies Zayn’s eyelashes that fan his cheeks when he closes his eyes. He sings with everything he has but still manages to make it sound like it takes no effort at all. Liam looks at his lips and for a second, he wonders what they would feel like on his.

He feels butterflies flutter in his stomach, and it’s ridiculous because Liam hates clichés, but it dawns on him in that moment, the fact that he has feelings, _real_ feelings for the boy in front of him. It forces him to tune Zayn out as he tries to come to terms with this realisation.

“Earth to Liam,” he hears Zayn say, an amused tilt to his tone as he waves his hand in front of Liam’s face. “What do you think?”

Liam looks up at him and tries to quell the bile building in his throat. “It’s amazing, Zayn.”

“Really?”

“Sounds like something I’d listen to. The lyrics, um, you can tell they’re from the heart.”

Zayn beams at that, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and something in Liam’s chest pulses again. _Fuck_.

“Um, I haven’t told anyone this, but I got accepted into the New York Arts Program I told you about.”

Liam sits up, telling himself to get a grip. “You did? That’s wonderful, Zayn!”

“I don’t know if I should go. I feel the pressure to take on an engineering job instead since it’s related to my degree. If I’m being honest, it’s not what I want to do. But dadi doesn’t really approve of the arts.”

“I’m probably not in the position to say it, but you should follow your passion. It’s a great opportunity, and there’s so much more out there for you to explore. Maybe it’s about time you did something for yourself, Zayn. You’re really talented.”

Zayn bites his lip. “I guess so. Thank you.”

“Zayn! Liam!” Harry calls out from a distance, interrupting their exchange.

“Oi, car’s ready, let’s get a move on,” Louis says, appearing from behind the trees. Liam stands up much too quickly, purposefully not meeting anyone’s eyes as he speed walks back to the cabin, knowing that there’s too much written on his face that he can’t hide.

 

***

 

In the next two months, Zayn finds himself with a smile on his face more often than not and it feels odd, but it’s a welcome change. It doesn’t go unnoticed; even the general mood around his house has lifted due to Liam and his frequent visits. They’ve also been spending a lot more time together, whether it’s as a group or just the two of them.

They have loads more things in common than Zayn had thought, and it makes their conversations flow with ease. Liam’s one of the few people Zayn feels completely comfortable with, and he finds himself growing more attached to the other boy with each passing day.

“What’s going on with you lately? You look different and you’re smiling so much, are you feeling alright?" Harry asks, making a show of placing his hand on Zayn’s forehead to gauge his temperature.

“Ha ha, you’re hilarious,” Zayn says, but it doesn’t come across nearly as sarcastic as he had intended since he’s in too much of a good mood.

Harry leaves after dropping Zayn off after school. He walks into the house, remembering that Safaa’s supposed to be just about done with her piano lesson with Liam. Zayn peers into the guest room, catching a bit of their conversation.

“I like you, Leeyum. You make bhai smile a lot, sometimes even his eyes get all crinkly,” Safaa says. There’s a short pause.

“I like it when he smiles.”

“Me too. I hope you can keep doing it forever and ever,” she raises her arms up, waving them around.

Liam takes a lollipop out of his pocket and offers it to the girl. “Here. Great work today.” Safaa happily stretches out for it, but Liam raises it out of her reach. “Promise me you won’t eat it until after dinner.”

“I promise,” she replies, small hand curling around the candy. Zayn hides in the corner when Safaa skips out of the room to head for the dining room. By the time Liam stands back up and turns around, he’s leaning against the door frame again.

“You’ve got my entire family wrapped around your finger.”

“What can I say, I have a certain effect on people,” Liam smiles, stepping closer to him. “There’s only one person I really, really want to win over, though.”

Zayn feels himself freeze from the way Liam’s gazing at him. Liam casts his gaze downwards and watches as Zayn’s Adam’s apple bobs.

“Maybe you already have,” Zayn lets out. His heart thuds almost painfully when Liam leans in until their faces are just centimetres apart.

“Zayn! Liam!” Trisha shouts from downstairs.

Liam steps back and looks out to the hallway. “We’re being summoned.”

Zayn can only nod, relaxing his body when Liam walks away, letting out a long breath before he follows behind.

 

***

 

“Would you like to stay for dinner, Liam?” Trisha asks just as Zayn walks into the kitchen.

“Oh, no, it’s alright, I wouldn’t want to be a bother,” Liam replies.

“Not at all,” she insists. “I’ve cooked more than enough food.”

“Okay, sure. Thank you.”

The rest of the family is already seated, helping themselves to the spread on the table. Liam takes the seat directly in the middle of Zayn and his grandmother. Zayn instantly feels anxious at the thought of Mariam bringing up anything inappropriate in Liam’s presence, but the first 45 minutes or so go by pleasantly enough with casual conversation.

“So, Liam,” Mariam says when they get to dessert. “Are you planning on settling down anytime soon?”

Dread pools in his stomach-- he knows where this is headed. He looks on apologetically when the question causes Liam to almost choke on a bite of ladoo. “Not really, no,” Liam gets out after a moment. “I’ve got... other priorities right now.”

“Doniya’s found herself a lovely man,” Mariam adds, beaming with pride. “I’ve been trying to find a match for Zayn, but there isn’t much I can do with the marriage counselor, not when he’s going through this... _phase_ of liking boys--”

“It’s not a phase,” Liam interjects with a frown.

“Liam,” Zayn says his name like he’s giving him a warning. His hands grip the fork so hard he thinks the cutlery might break under the pressure.

“Being gay is not a phase,” Liam continues. “And it’s definitely not a choice.”

A tense silence falls in the room. Zayn’s grandmother looks so taken aback for once that Zayn would laugh at the expression on her face if the situation wasn’t making him scream on the inside.

“I-- How dare y--”

“Dadi,” Doniya snaps pointedly. “Don’t start. Please.” She turns to Zayn. “Of course it isn’t,” she says, in a tone that Zayn recognises as comforting. He smiles gratefully at his sister, but it doesn’t do much to mute the alarms blaring in his head.

Mariam tuts. “I don’t know how you’ve all been raised to be supporters of this-- this _sort_ of behaviour. What would my ancestors think? This is your mother’s influence, yes, Yaser would’ve never--”

“You don’t _know_ what Yaser would’ve wanted,” Trisha retorts, her voice low and menacing.

“Alright, dinner’s over,” Zayn interrupts loudly, placing his fork down next to his barely-touched dessert. He blinks repeatedly to stop the tears that are forming in his eyes. “Let’s go, Liam.”

Liam doesn’t budge from his seat. “Mariam, you have such high expectations for Zayn, yet you can’t even accept him for the person he is? He’s only been studying engineering ‘cause he feels pressured by you, did you know that? And yeah, he likes boys. So _what_? He’s still Zayn, your grandson Zayn, nothing’s changed.”

“Liam--”

“No,” Liam insists. “It’s been _years_. You preach and preach about wanting the best for your grandchildren so you can do right by Yaser, but from what I’ve heard about him, he loved his children deeply. I doubt he’d want you to treat Zayn the way that you have all this time. Zayn, he-- he’s incredible, and he deserves better.”

Liam turns to Trisha. “I’m sorry, Trisha. Thank you again, for dinner.”

Liam takes Zayn’s hand, quickly dragging him away from the dining room and out of the house. Zayn is numb all over, his legs seeming to move of their own accord as his brain tries to process the earlier confrontation. He gets into Liam’s car, the other boy closing the door before he walks over to the driver’s side.

“Where do you want to go?” Liam asks.

“Away from here,” Zayn manages. It doesn’t even sound like his own voice, like he’s disconnected from his body. Liam drives, and Zayn tries to breathe. He keeps his gaze on the snake-eyed dice hanging from the rear-view mirror, blocking everything else around him.

“Zayn,” he hears Liam say. He doesn’t know how much time has passed, but the car’s parked. He looks around when he gets out of the car and recognises the location; Liam had driven them back to his apartment. Liam keeps his hand on the small of Zayn’s back all the way till they reach the door. Liam pushes the door open for him.

He walks into the apartment, knows the interior of it so well that he finds his favourite couch in the living room even in the darkness. He picks up on the sound of the door lock clicking into place, followed by the apartment being illuminated in a soft glow when Liam turns the lights on.

“I’m sorry,” Liam says after a long moment. He remains standing, hands in his pockets, maintaining a fair, careful distance from Zayn.

“I didn’t ask you to do that, Liam,” Zayn sighs. He feels a headache coming on.

“I know.”

“Then why did--”

“She’s never listened to you, _really_ listened to you. If it takes someone else to tell her the truth so that she finally realises her mistakes, then I won’t regret it. I don’t, either way.”

“I would’ve never gotten the courage to say the things you said, even though that’s all I ever wanted her to know,” Zayn admits. “But it just seems like you’re fighting my battles for me. Again.”

“You’re perfectly capable of handling your problems,” Liam says firmly. “But this goes beyond what you can or can’t do. She’s stubborn, she needed the push.”

Zayn walks over to Liam and puts his arms around him, reveling in the warmth that his body emits. It brings him comfort in a way that little else does. “I wish I could believe that,” Zayn mumbles into the fabric of Liam’s shirt.

“Hey,” Liam says, pulling away so he can cup Zayn’s chin, tilting his face up so their eyes meet. “I really am sorry, it wasn’t my place to intervene. But I just-- I didn’t want you to have to deal with that anymore.”

“It’s fine, Liam. I’ll handle the fallout. You shouldn’t have to be dragged further into this… _thing_ with my family anyway. We’re pretty fucked up.”

“You’re not, though,” Liam says softly. “You’re perfect.”

Zayn stands transfixed to the spot. Liam’s staring at him so intensely that he can’t look away, and they’re close enough that he picks up a really faint hint of the other boy’s cologne. Liam’s gaze slips lower, and it makes Zayn subconsciously stick his tongue out slightly to moisten his lips. Zayn mirrors the action, noticing just how red and plump Liam’s lips are.

He’s about to respond with a self-deprecating joke, but Liam leans forward to press their lips together before he can get it out, his hands cupping the sides of his face. He stops thinking about anything other than how Liam’s lips feel against his own. Liam nudges his tongue between Zayn’s lips, asking a silent question. Zayn parts his mouth slowly and tentatively, letting Liam’s tongue glide into the warm wetness of it. Zayn melts into the kiss, a low moan leaving his throat as Liam deepens it, his own hands roaming down Liam’s body, to the button of his jeans. Liam pulls away, stepping back.

“Zayn,” he gasps. “We shouldn’t, not like this.”

“Why not?” Zayn asks, confusion and a bit of anger coursing through him.

“You’re emotional and vulnerable and I-- I don’t want it to seem like I’m taking advantage of that or s-- something,” Liam stammers. His pupils are blown wide, lips slick, yet he still looks so fucking earnest about making sure Zayn considers this properly.

“You’re not,” Zayn affirms, shifting closer. “I know what I want, and I want you.”

It doesn’t take long before Liam relents and their lips meet again, Liam leading Zayn to the couch that he had occupied earlier, pushing him on top of it. Zayn takes up the small expanse of it while Liam hovers over him. There’s nothing gentle about the kiss now, just an urgent clashing of tongues and bumping of noses. Liam moves to Zayn’s neck, sucking on the skin at the base of his throat. He unbuttons Zayn’s jeans while Zayn tugs his shirt off. Zayn lifts himself up a little so Liam can pull the material down, along with his briefs. Zayn’s cock juts out, precome glistening at the tip. Liam wraps a hand around it, giving it a few light tugs.

“Beautiful,” Liam murmurs. Liam relaxes his grip, peppering kisses across the length of it. He licks the slit, looking up into Zayn’s eyes as he takes it into his mouth. Zayn tears his gaze away -- he’s already so close -- his hands resting on Liam’s hair. Liam continues to bob up and down, taking as much of him as he can.

“Li-- shit.”

He pulls off suddenly with a pop, causing Zayn to tut loudly.

“I want to fuck you,” Liam says, voice hoarse. “I want you to come only when I’m inside you. D-- do you want that?”

“Fuck-- yeah, okay,” Zayn breathes. “Bedroom. Now.” They walk down the hallway to Liam’s room, taking a bit longer when Zayn pushes Liam against the wall on the way there to kiss him again and tug his clothes off. Zayn climbs on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows, watching as Liam gets rid of the last of his clothing. He reaches blindly below his bed, pulling out a bottle of lube.

“Um, fuck, I don’t have a condom, do y--?”

“There's one in my wallet,” Zayn gets out. “Back pocket of my jeans.”

“Okay, I’ll go get it,” Liam says. He knocks his foot against the bedframe in his haste to get outside. “Oww, fuck.”

Zayn shakes his head, smiling fondly at him. He lies back down, staring up at the ceiling, and it’s then that what they’re about to do really dawns on him. _He’s naked and he’s about to have sex with Liam Payne_. He’s thought about it for some time, but now that it’s really here, he’s unsure of what to expect.

“Got it,” Liam almost yells when he reaches the room. He kisses Zayn briefly when he gets on the bed, before sitting up to coat his fingers with the lube. He carefully slots a finger into Zayn’s rim, moving it around. It’s been too long since Zayn’s had fingers that are not his own inside him, and it’s a different sensation, but a good kind. It still takes a fairly long time before he can handle the stretch of three fingers inside him.

“You good?” Liam asks.

“Y-- yeah, ‘m ready,” Zayn says. Liam reaches for the condom, trying to get the wrapper open. His hands are trembling, but he manages to tear the foil, rolling it carefully over his cock. Liam pushes in slowly, letting out a breath when he bottoms out. Zayn winces at the initial pain, adjusting himself slightly when it subsides. Liam waits for a moment, moving his dick almost all the way out of Zayn before pushing back in. His thrusts start at a moderate pace, eventually getting harder and faster. Zayn listens to Liam’s erratic breathing, the sounds of his moans going straight to his dick. Liam’s breath is hot against his neck.

“So tight, Zayn. So full for me. It’s like your body was meant for my cock.” Zayn’s breath hitches when Liam finds the perfect spot inside of him, hitting it over and over again. “Fuck, that feels amazing, babe.”

Liam puts his hand around Zayn’s dick, jerking him off furiously, his own thrusts becoming erratic. Zayn comes after a minute, his senses heightened all around as white streaks coat his stomach. He catches his breath; he’s never come so hard in his life, and it makes him feel blissed out but overwhelmed. Liam plants a kiss on Zayn’s temple as he’s coming down from his high, so delicately that it’s a stark contrast to the way he’s still pounding into him.

“I lo-- love you, Liam,” Zayn gasps. Zayn doesn’t think anything in the second that Liam’s body goes rigid on top of his. He doesn’t stop, continues to thrust into him steadily until he comes. He eventually pulls out of Zayn, falling onto the bed in a slump. Zayn almost immediately feels fatigue take over, closing his eyes and drifting to sleep before he can even consider talking to Liam about the things that just happened or do anything else.

 

***

 

Liam opens his eyes, squinting against the sunlight streaming into the window. He looks over to the other side of the bed, Zayn’s back facing him. He’s grateful that Zayn had fallen asleep so quickly the previous night, barely stirring when Liam wiped the come off his body. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done if Zayn wanted to talk to him, wanted to discuss what he’d said. He’s still trying to wrap his head around the confession. It should’ve made him happy, that his feelings are reciprocated. He really should be ecstatic right now, but Zayn’s words had only made dread settle in, followed by fear.

Liam walks to the kitchen, pouring out some orange juice and sipping on it. He doesn’t think his stomach could withstand a full meal. He gets lost in his own thoughts, and almost doesn’t catch the sound of Zayn’s footsteps approaching the kitchen.

“Morning,” Zayn greets, smiling dazedly at him. He returns it with a weak one of his own. Zayn leans in for a kiss, but Liam turns away to put his cup in the sink, feeling horrible when he sees Zayn’s smile fall out of the corner of his eye.

“I have to go, um, run some errands,” Liam says. “I’ll drop you off at your house on the way?”

“Okay,” Zayn replies. “Are we-- are we still on for this weekend?”

“I, uh, I don’t think I can. Really busy with… things,” Liam sputters out pathetically.

There is a flash of what looks like hurt on Zayn’s face, but he schools the expression into one of indifference. “Another time then.”

Liam’s uncharacteristically silent the entire ride, only mumbling a half-hearted goodbye before leaving. He can’t get away fast enough, and he knows that it makes him a coward, but he can’t bring himself to care.

 

***

 

Liam opens his eyes, looking around the room blearily, only remembering after a second that he’d stayed over at Louis’ apartment. His own apartment constantly reminded him of the night he spent with Zayn, so he’d left after three days, taking a small carry-on bag with him. He looks down at his bare chest, vaguely recalling that he’d tugged his shirt off in a sleepy haze. He zeroes in on the shirt that had landed on the floor across the room, and walks over to pick it up. Liam heads for the living room to see Louis scolding his pet when it starts to scratch the side of the couch.

“William, no, bad kitty!”

“Morning.”

Louis has his hands on his hips, blowing his messy fringe away from his forehead. “The scratching post I bought is wasted on him. I swear, he does it on purpose.”

“Very likely. What I still can’t believe, though, is that you named your cat after your own middle name,” Liam says through a yawn.

“That’s only because _someone_ thought my first choice was inappropriate.”

“You wanted to call him Umbridge,” Liam deadpans.

“He’s ten pounds of fluff and _pure evil_!” Louis reasons, then shakes his head as if he’s stopping himself before he begins another tirade. “Never mind that. What’s going on with you and Zayn?”

“What? Nothing,” Liam replies at once.

“I just got off the phone with Haz, he said Zayn’s been moping for days but won’t explain why.”

“What makes you think it’s ‘cause of me?”

Louis gives him a trenchant look. “Who else could it be? Mary, Queen of bloody Scots? Tell me what happened or so help me I w--”

“He told me that he loves me,” Liam blurts.

Louis’ expression softens considerably. “Oh, Li.”

“He-- I don’t know, it came out of nowhere. I don’t think he meant to say it in that moment. But, fuck, I just panicked. I couldn’t be around him anymore.”

“It’s okay to admit that you feel the same way.”

“I can’t,” Liam responds, a quiver in his voice.

Louis sighs. “Liam--”

“How do I tell him that for the first time in years I feel something that I never thought my heart could feel again, let alone for someone else? But it’s getting weaker everyday, and I don’t know how much time I have left?”

Louis steps toward him. “It’s not fair to keep this from him and you know it.”

“I should’ve never let things escalate between us in the first place! I don’t want him to have me then lose me. If him being angry makes it easier when the inevitable happens, then it’s fine by me.”

“Why are you saying that as if it’s final? God, Li, you’ll get better, you’ll get a donor. You’re sick, yeah, but it doesn’t mean you should stop living your life. Zayn makes you happier than anyone I’ve ever seen you with.”

Liam rubs his eyes tiredly. “Can we just get past this, please?”

“I will if you stop _lying_ to yourself, Liam James Payne," Louis says accusingly, poking him square in the chest.

 

***

 

Zayn is pleasantly surprised when he’s greeted with a wide spread of food on the dining table when he gets home, filled with his and his siblings’ favourite dishes.

“Wow, what’s the occasion?” Waliyha asks.

“Trisha’s Catering has just gotten its biggest order yet, so I thought we should celebrate,” Trisha replies, grinning widely.

“Congrats, mum!” Doniya says. “Who placed the order? Anyone we know?”

“Nicola Payne and her fiancé.”

Zayn raises an eyebrow. “Nicola as in Liam’s _sister_?”

“Yes, I’m catering her engagement party. Apparently Liam raved about my food to his family and they were completely open to having me cater. We’ve been discussing the menu for close to two weeks, actually. The groom’s half Pakistani, too, so it’s perfect.”

Zayn purses his lips. “He didn’t tell me about it.”

“Well, he must have his reasons. He did ask me to send some samples over so they could decide, so it’s not like he was only doing me a favour. They ended up loving the food! Isn’t it exciting?”

“That’s great, mum, ‘m so happy for you.”

Zayn’s distracted for the rest of the meal, thinking of all the things Liam’s done and continues to do for him and his family. He specifically recalls the night they’d spent together. Liam hasn’t talked to him since then and he knows it’s due to what he said. He’s thankful that he’s on a break from school, but he hasn’t had anything to distract him from his wild thoughts. After his eighth sleepless night in two weeks, he can’t handle the silence anymore. He gets on the bus that goes to Liam’s apartment, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie for the entire journey.

“Hi, Liam,” Zayn says when Liam opens the door. He’s in sweatpants and a white shirt, and there is obvious surprise on his face, but he gives him a wide smile.

“Zayn! To what do I owe the pleasure?” he responds. Zayn catches on to the ingenuine cheeriness in Liam’s voice, and for a second decides that it was a bad idea showing up.

“Um, I need to talk to you. Can I come in?”

“Sure,” he pulls the door open wider, giving Zayn space to step inside. Zayn shifts, uncomfortable, in the middle of the living room while Liam leans against the kitchen counter.

“Thank you for what you did,” Zayn gets out. “For my mum.”

“Oh, it’s fine, it’s the least I could do.”

“Why did you do all this? First my sister’s lessons, then my grandma, and now the catering business… You haven’t known us for very long, so I-- um.”

“I don’t need a reason to help people,” Liam shrugs. “Besides, they deserve it.”

Zayn offers him a small smile. “Means a lot to me, anyway.”

Silence passes for a few seconds as Liam awaits for Zayn to bring up what they both know to be the real reason for his presence. “I’m probably the last person you want to see right now. I kind of sprung my feelings on you that night.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Liam mumbles. He won’t meet Zayn’s eyes anymore.

“Don’t pretend, Li. You heard me. I made it very clear how I feel. But when it comes to you, I can’t keep trying to read the signs. A part of me thinks that you might be into me too, but other times it’s like you’re not.”

“How I feel?” Liam voices. “You know what I think of you, Z. We’re friends, yeah?”

“Friends,” Zayn states, frustration taking over. “I don’t want to be your fucking _friend_.”

He fists the material of Liam’s shirt, meeting his lips in a desperate kiss. Liam leads him to the couch, but Zayn almost loses his balance, blindly searching for something to hold onto. He accidentally swipes what feels like a stack of cards off the coffee table, sending them scattering across the floor. He opens his eyes, looking to the floor as Liam’s kissing his neck. The first picture that catches his eye is one of Liam and another man, both in suits, standing close together with their arms around each other.

“Li, who’s this?”

“Hmmm?” Liam lets out distractedly, kissing down Zayn’s body.

“Liam,” Zayn says again, sitting up on the couch so that Liam has no choice but to stop and look at him. Liam takes the picture from his hand, wearing an expression he can’t decipher.

“That’s me,” Liam gets out.

“I know that,” Zayn utters impatiently. “Who’s the bloke next to you?”

“He’s my… boyfriend.”

Zayn goes cold all over. “Boyfriend,” he repeats. “Get off me.”

“Babe--”

“I said, get the _fuck_ off.”

Liam does so hurriedly. “We’ve had some, uh, problems in the past year,” he rattles. “It’s been on and off a lot. He’s the reason I came to London in the first place. We’ve been trying to... fix things.”

Zayn clenches his hands into fists to stop them from shaking with the anger he’s currently feeling. “So whatever happened between us that day, when we-- you were _together_ with him? What was that to you? A pity fuck?”

“No, God no,” Liam retorts. “We were on another break then. I wanted it as much as you did.”

“Say it like it is, Liam. You were horny and I was practically offering myself up to you.”

“That’s not fair. You caught me off guard with your confession and it’s-- you’re expecting something more from me that I can’t give you.”

Zayn scoffs. “This is-- you’re unbelievable.”

“Like I said,” Liam tries. “We’re mates. I care about you.”

“You’re so full of shit. You don’t do this to someone you call a mate. Fuck, I-- I need to go.” Zayn tugs his hoodie on and bolts out the door before Liam can get another word in. It starts to pour as soon as he steps out of Liam’s apartment block. How fitting, he thinks bitterly. He brings up the hood, walking down the street, not knowing where it will lead him. He shivers, swears that every sniff that he lets out afterwards is due to the cold from the rain. Nothing else.

 

***

 

Liam looks out the window to the street below, watching as Zayn walks away. He bites his lip to prevent himself from screaming. He fucked up big time. There was no other way to put it. The story he’d given about James being his boyfriend wasn’t what he meant to say, not at all the story he wanted to go with, but it left his mouth somehow, so he rolled with it. He left as many details out of the explanation as possible. Just a bending of the truth, he reasoned, though by doing so he’d made himself look like an utter douchebag.

Even he was surprised by how genuine he sounded, his heart breaking with every word. It’s not the anger or disappointment reflected in Zayn’s eyes that is ingrained in Liam’s mind-- it’s the heartbreak, clear on every feature, laced in every fibre of Zayn’s being. Liam doesn’t know how they’ll be able to bounce back from this, and that’s what impacts him the most.

 

***

 

“Lou! Your phone’s ringing again!”

“Gimme a minute,” Louis yells. “Fucking William had a wee on my bed.”

Liam laughs. “Okay, but it’s Harry calling.”

Louis practically sprints outside in record time. “Hello? Hazza?” Louis smiles. Liam is a bit disturbed by how demure he’s being on the phone when he was cursing his cat just a minute earlier. His pleasant expression doesn’t last, morphing into one of confusion.

“Why didn’t I-- what? Tell you about Liam’s boyfriend?” Louis repeats loudly, raising an eyebrow at Liam. Liam’s eyes go wide. He scrambles to pick up the nearest piece of paper and pen on the table, writing ‘James’ in big block letters, followed by ‘pls play along :(’ below it. He slides the paper closer to Louis, whose eyes narrow when he reads it.

“Oh, right. James. Liam’s… boyfriend. Yes. I’m sorry, love. He, uh, wanted me to keep it a secret.”

Liam puts on the most pitiful look he can muster. Not knowing what’s being said in the call is giving him anxiety, and he anticipates a storm coming from the way Louis is glaring at him.

“I know, I know. I’ll make it up to you, promise. See you tomorrow?” Louis says, his voice gentle in a way that’s only reserved for Harry. “Bye, Haz.”

He ends the call and tosses his phone on the couch. “Alright, what the fuck was that?”

Liam grimaces. “Zayn saw a picture of the two of us, so that’s, um, what I told him.”

“ _Liam_ ,” Louis says a tiny bit condescendingly. “You’ve done some questionable things in your life, most of which I will admit to enabling. But telling Zayn that you’re dating your _heart doctor_? Who is not only straight, but married, for Christ’s sake. What were you _thinking_?”

“I wasn’t thinking, I kind of just… blurted it out. I know I shouldn’t have.”

“I don’t want to have to lie to Harry, who, by the way, is the reason Martin doesn’t think I’m gonna steal his wife from him anymore. Apparently he didn’t know I was gay. Who would’ve thought?”

Liam chuckles despite himself. “I’m sorry, Lou. I really am. I fucked up. But it’s too much of a risk to tell Harry the truth. I’ll… buy you a bagel everyday for the next month?”

Louis lets out a breath. “Fine, but make that for the rest of the year.”

 

***

 

“You look like shit,” is the first thing Harry says when Liam answers the door. Liam rolls his eyes. He’d spent the past week cooped up in his room, with barely any sleep, and it was starting to show.

“Nice seeing you too,” he replies as the other boy pushes past him, carrying bags of what he presumes to be groceries. He sets the bags on the counter before pulling out each item one by one.

“Thought you could use a home-cooked meal,” Harry says simply, gesturing at the ingredients on the counter. “When’s the last time you showered, mate? Smells like something died in here,” he scrunches his nose, eyeing Liam’s slightly discoloured sweatpants that are stained with sweet chilli sauce and what Liam recalls to be strawberry cheesecake ice cream. “Go on, I’ll get started here.”

Liam’s stomach emits a loud noise when he gets back into the kitchen after a shower and gets a whiff of what Harry’s cooking in the kitchen. He realises that he hadn’t actually had a proper home-cooked meal in a while, choosing to rely on Chinese take-out from across the street or pizza delivered to his apartment.

“There’s a loose floorboard here, did you know?” Harry asks him as he sits down.

“Yeah. Been meaning to get that fixed.”

Harry sets a plate of spaghetti bolognese in front of him and he almost wolfs down the entire plate within a minute.

“Thank you,” Liam says appreciatively.

“Don’t thank me,” Harry replies. “You could do something else for me though.” Liam knows what he wants; Louis has been trying to get him to do the same.

“No.”

“Just talk to him, Li,” Harry pushes. “I know James is your doctor,” he continues when Liam doesn’t respond.

Liam drops his fork onto the plate, causing it to make a loud clattering noise. “That little _bastard_.”

“Don’t blame Lou, I got it out of him. Niall may or may not have been there too. I knew there was something weird going on with you. Turns out I was right.”

“What else do you know?”

“Enough to know that you’re doing the wrong thing by not telling Zayn the truth.”

“Drop it,” Liam snaps, annoyed. “Why does everyone think they know better about what I should or shouldn’t do? You’re not in my shoes, so stop trying to police my decisions.” Liam sighs, running a hand across his face. Harry just doesn’t _get_ it. Doesn’t understand that Zayn would easily be able to get Liam to take back his decision and let it all spill out if he knew that there could be even a tiny possibility that his feelings were returned. Liam can’t allow him to do that.

So he still hasn’t talked to Zayn since the day of their fight, even though he’s come so close to giving him a call and leaving him a voicemail. His hand had hovered too many times over the “Send” button before he changed his mind and deleted the texts. Every day spent not talking to Zayn makes his chest ache painfully to a chorus of _I can’t let you see what you mean to me when my hands are tied and my heart’s not free_.

“I’m sorry, Li,” Harry laments. “I’m here for you. I want you to get better. I really hope you do. Just... consider it, yeah?”

“Okay,” Liam agrees. “So, you and Louis, that must be going great, huh?” he teases to ease the tension. Harry’s mood is instantly lifted.

“He’s perfect,” Harry replies. “I wouldn’t have met him if not for you so, thank you.”

He listens as Harry fondly rattles on about his friend and it makes him smile knowing that at least one relationship will likely make it out of the mess they’ve weaved themselves into.

 

***

 

Liam is still awake, long after Harry leaves his apartment. Harry had made a promise of doing something very gruesome to Liam’s privates if he didn’t clean the apartment and make the effort to go outside more often. It wasn’t really threatening when, in typical Harry fashion, it was followed by a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Liam opens his eyes when he hears shuffling outside the door followed by a series of loud knocks.

He glances at the clock -- it’s a bit past 1 in the morning -- and the knocks outside are unrelenting. He pushes himself off his bed, grumbling as he drags himself to the door, wondering who could be bugging him that late. He pulls it open and is shocked to find Zayn on the other side, eyes glazed over and cheeks a cherry red.

“Hi,” Zayn greets, giving Liam a dopey grin.

“Zayn?” Liam echoes, warily. “How did y--?”

“‘M drunk..." Zayn says, flinging himself towards Liam. Zayn pulls him close, burying his face in his shoulder. Zayn’s skin is cold to the touch from being outside, but it’s Liam who’s frozen in place at the contact. He hadn’t realised just how much he missed having Zayn’s arms around him. He wishes the circumstances were different because the smell of alcohol hanging off of Zayn is strong, _too_ strong, and Liam knows that he doesn’t usually drink like this. It makes him feel guilty.

Zayn lets go of his hold on Liam, walking past him and to the bathroom. He coughs and splutters, letting out everything he’d consumed earlier into the toilet bowl. Liam is by his side at once to rub his back carefully. Liam takes a small glass from the shelf, filling it halfway with some tap water. He offers it to Zayn, who accepts it gratefully, chugging the contents down.

Zayn gets up, and Liam grips his bicep when the other boy trips over his own feet as they leave the bathroom. Liam starts to walk in the direction of the couch in the living room, but he changes his mind almost at the last minute, directing the boy to his bedroom instead. Zayn falls in a lump on his bed, letting out a long groan. His phone vibrates on his bedside table, the screen reflecting Niall’s name.

“Liam,” Niall almost shouts when he answers. He sounds frantic and close to tears. “Zayn, he--”

“He’s here, Niall, he’s at my apartment,” Liam assures him.

“Oh, thank fuck. I take my eyes off him for _five minutes_ … Is he okay?”

Liam watches Zayn for a bit as the other boy pushes himself up and struggles to get his shoes off. “He’s fine, just plastered.”

“Tell the bastard to call me when he’s sober. Gonna give him an earful for scarin’ me like that. And, Li-- heard about what you’re going through. Take care, mate.”

Liam manages a small smile. “Thanks, Niall. G’night.”

He ends the call. When he thinks Zayn has settled in, he walks away to sleep outside.

“Liam,” he hears Zayn say. Liam turns to face him. “Stay with me?”

“Uh,” he pauses. “I don’t thi--”

“Please,” Zayn implores, his eyes wide and pleading. Liam takes a breath before walking towards the bed and sliding into it. He faces Zayn, and it feels like the most unnatural thing in the world, being in the same bed as him again, and somehow he’s torn between wanting to laugh or cry. _How did he let it get this way between them_?

“You okay?” Liam asks. It’s a loaded question, and he doesn’t know why he even asks Zayn that, but he’s somehow compelled to fill the silence.

Zayn gazes at him for a moment and ends up nodding slightly. “Just missed you, Li,” he murmurs, before closing his eyes. Later, Liam moves to the couch when he’s sure that Zayn’s fast asleep.

 

***

 

Zayn falls off the bed with a thump, his head feeling like it’s about to burst. He carefully blinks his eyes open. Brown hardwood floors are what he sees first from his crouched position when his eyes come into focus. He recognises the interior of the room instantly; he’s in Liam’s apartment, and worse than that, he’d slept on Liam’s _bed_. He shakes his head in an attempt to get rid of the hallucination; only it isn’t one. He runs his fingers through his tousled hair as he tries to recall how he got there, but his memory turns fuzzy some time after he’d gone to the pub with Niall the night before. Fuck.

Zayn heads to the kitchen, to find Liam looking over two pans of turkey ham and scrambled eggs respectively on the stove as he hums along to the song playing on the radio. The smell wafts to his nose, and he realises how hungry he actually is when his stomach grumbles loudly.

“Morning,” Liam greets when he sees him. He looks put together, as usual, a spring in his step, unlike Zayn who feels like a complete mess.

“I’m never drinking again,” Zayn decides.

“A good breakfast solves everything,” Liam tells him, setting down two plates of the food on the countertop, along with a cup of plain water and advil for Zayn.

“I’m sorry,” Zayn says. “For turning up out of the blue.”

“Uninvited?” Liam continues with a chuckle. “It’s fine, but you were clearly drunk off your arse. God knows how you even found your way here.”

“I didn’t, um, do or say anything too outrageous, did I?”

“No, ‘course not. Niall’s the one you should be apologising to, though. He was worried sick.”

“Shit, I feel awful,” Zayn presses his palm against his forehead. “This is why I don’t really get drunk. I end up acting on impulse and making a fool out of myself in some way.”

“Don’t worry about it. Hurry up and eat before it gets cold,” Liam presses, sticking a forkful of eggs into his mouth. It quickly dawns on Zayn, how casually domestic they’re being, and it makes something akin to yearning course through him. He bites his lip; the relationship between them lately could hardly be considered casual.

“Liam,” Zayn utters. “Are we… alright?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t we be?” Liam responds.

_Because I told you how I felt and you ignored me. Because despite you rejecting me and breaking my heart, I still want you in my life in any way that I can. Because I can’t stand not talking to you, and I should be angry that you’re pretending nothing happened but I’m not and I don’t care if that makes me pathetic._

“Okay, that’s… that’s good,” Zayn gets out, instead. “I’m performing at the pub next weekend, if you wanna come.”

Liam smiles. “I’ll be there.”

 

***

 

Liam sees James for a follow-up medical appointment, but this time, he finds that it’s difficult to walk into it with high hopes. He isn’t stupid; he notices the way his body has slowly started to show signs that his sickness is taking over. He’s alert, he’s mentally strong, but his body is failing him in more ways than one. The shortness of breath is the worst of it. It feels like his chest is being compressed, even when he tries to breathe in as deeply as he can, it’s like he’s still constantly gasping for air. He’s lost some weight, and his skin is starting to be tinged a very visible light blue, almost purple. His body aches, his shoulders especially, bouts of nausea affect him more regularly, and he’s tired all the time.

Liam lies on the angled bed in the clinic after the regular tests, fiddling with his wallet as he waits for James to come back in the room. He almost drifts off to sleep before he hears the sound of the door swinging open. James has Liam’s test results in his hands, studying them. His forehead is scrunched, lips pressed in a thin line. “James.”

“Yeah?” He asks, not turning his attention from the papers.

“James,” Liam repeats. James looks up at him, but it’s timid, like he doesn’t want to have to face him and own up to the reality of the situation.

“I’m dying, aren’t I?” Liam asks softly. “I’m not going to make it to my transplant date.”

James’ expression is a mixture of frustration and guilt. “There’s going to be a breakthrough soon, I know it,” James insists, though it’s more like he’s trying to convince himself than Liam. “Then we’ll be able to--”

“A few more months,” Liam requests. “That’s all I ask. Please. Until after Nicola’s engagement party, at least.”

James reaches out to place his hand over Liam’s. “Okay,” he says firmly. “Okay, Li, I’ll try, promise.”

 

***

 

Liam heads straight to the pub after his appointment. It had taken a much longer time than he’d expected, but the crowd was only just starting to fill in, and he took that as a good indicator that he hadn’t missed anything. When he walks to their usual table at the furthest end of the pub, it’s occupied by Niall, Louis, Harry, and Isaac.

“Hey, Liam!” Niall grins. He scoots to the side to give Liam more room to sit down. “About time you got here, Zayn’s going on soon.”

“Where were you?” Isaac asks.

“He was out. With his boyfriend, James. Doing things that boyfriends do,” Louis says loudly, letting out a string of hiccups before Liam can even get a word out. Liam shoots him a glare, but Louis just raises his eyebrows in a challenge, taking another chug of his beer. The host for the night walks on the stage, his voice booming around the pub, and they turn their attention to the stage. They cheer obnoxiously when Zayn gets called up. He looks incredible, as always, carefully stepping on the small makeshift stage, squinting a little at the harsh spotlight that’s directed at him.

“Good evening, everyone,” Zayn starts off. “Um, my name’s Zayn. It’s my first time singin’ in front of a crowd like this, so thanks for coming out tonight. I’ll be performing a mix of original songs and covers. Hope you all like it.”

Liam smiles, his chest filled with typical warmth at the sight of Zayn. He gets through most of Zayn’s set smiling and humming along, until he recognises the lyrics that Zayn had sung to Liam at the cabin what feels like a lifetime ago. He mumbles an excuse to go to the bathroom when tears well in his eyes at the memory, at the specific point in time that he figured out his feelings for Zayn. Zayn’s voice, that’s amplified by the microphone, is loud enough that he can hear it from inside.

“Uh, this next song is my last one for tonight,” Zayn reveals, to a couple of scattered “no”s and “boo”s from the crowd (Niall’s voice being the loudest). Zayn chuckles, and it makes Liam picture his face lighting up and his eyes getting crinkly. “I thought I’d end off with a new one that I wrote recently. It still needs a bit of fine tuning but I’d love to know what you think. It’s called Fool For You.”

Liam heads outside just as the lights of the pub dim, the single spotlight on the stage even more prominently focused on Zayn. He stops in his tracks when Zayn begins to sing.

 _This love is tainted_  
_I need you and I hate it_  
_You’re caught between a dream_  
_And a movie scene_  
_In a way, you know what I mean_

He can’t move, completely transfixed by the other boy, who has his eyes closed and is singing with passion. When Zayn opens his eyes, somehow they first land on him, even though he’s across the pub, a considerable distance from the main stage. His stomach flips, but he maintains the eye contact. It’s clearly not a mystery who the song’s about.

 _‘Cause I’m a fool for you and the things you do_  
_I’m a fool for you and the things, the things you do_  
_This love is tainted_

It’s only after the song ends that Zayn tears his gaze away, the moment broken when the lights come back on and applause reverberates through the pub. He smiles, putting his palms together and bowing a little in gratitude.

“Wow, he’s amazing,” says a girl who’s standing next to him.

“Yeah,” Liam agrees, feeling like his heart’s being squeezed. “He is.”

 

***

 

Zayn is in the bus when he sees Liam walking down the street with a guy whom he recognises as James from the picture he’d seen. They’re both talking animatedly and laughing, and it makes bile rise in his throat. He ducks a little, making sure there’s no chance of him being seen until the bus passes by completely. He’s in a foul mood when he steps into his house, and there’s a knock on the door about a minute later. He pulls the door open, though his head is turned towards the living room, facing Safaa who’s lifting a recently purchased vase off of the table.

“Safaa, put that down, it’s not a toy!” he shouts, exasperatedly. He brings his attention to the person at the door, wanting to apologize but he’s surprised to see who it is. Isaac is shuffling his feet left to right, and he looks almost nervous, pushing his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose.

“Hi, Zayn,” Isaac greets.

“Isaac,” Zayn states, hoping he doesn’t sound too confused by his presence. They’d been hanging out recently, but he’d never actually come to his front door. “What’re you doing here? Did I forget my calculator again?”

“No, not this time. Um, I was in the area and I know this is kind of sudden but I’ve been thinking about it for days so I thought I’d stop by and ask, uh, if maybe you’d want to go out sometime?” Isaac asks. He bites his lip, gazing at Zayn expectantly.

“Go out?” Zayn repeats.

“Yeah, like… like on a date,” Isaac clarifies.

Zayn frowns. He’s on the verge of declining, but the earlier sight of Liam and James pops in his head, and suddenly, he doesn’t think it would be such a bad idea.

“Sure,” he smiles. “Saturday at 8?”

Isaac’s face lights up at that, and it makes Zayn’s insides churn with shame. He decides later to give Isaac a fair chance, even though he’s never regarded the other boy as more than a friend. He wants nothing more than to be able to move on.

 

***

 

Liam’s seated on the bleachers, looking out to the field, a can of soda in his hand. Liam hadn’t wanted to attend the lacrosse game at the boys’ university, but he’d reluctantly got out of bed after a series of missed calls and a particularly rude voicemail from Niall. He shifts his focus to Zayn and Isaac, who are standing to the side of the field. They’re both smiling widely, Zayn leaning in close to Isaac as he whispers something in his ear.

“You’re going to drill a hole through Isaac’s head from the way you’re glaring at him,” Harry says, taking the seat next to Liam. Liam tears his eyes away from them to face him.

“I’m not glaring at him.”

“If you say so,” Louis pipes up, occupying the seat on his other side. He takes Liam’s can from him and downs the rest of its contents in one gulp.

“I couldn’t be happier for them. It’s good that Zayn’s seeing someone.”

“Lou, is that-- are you putting _chips_ in your sandwich?” Harry asks. “That’s disgusting.”

“What’s _disgusting_ , Harold, is that green gunk you keep drinking,” Louis retorts, pointing at the bottle in Harry’s hand.

“It’s organic,” Harry argues.

Liam tunes out their bickering. It’s what Liam wants, for Zayn to be happy with someone else, it _is_. Liam had continued not to acknowledge Zayn’s feelings, nor the song he’d written about him, so really, it was only a matter of time, he reasons. The small feeling of emptiness that overwhelms him when he gets home to a quiet apartment every night, coupled with being eager to spend time with Zayn the way they used to, are what almost brings him out the door and into Zayn’s arms with a confession. He forces himself to quell it down every time, for both their sakes.

 

***

 

Liam lets out a chuckle at the awed faces of the other boys when they take in the exterior sights of the mansion where Nicola’s engagement party is due to be held (he’d arrived earlier and had exhibited the same reaction).

“How many cars could one family possibly own?” Niall asks as they walk up the pathway to the entrance of the mansion in the outskirts of London.

“If I’d known that Nicola’s fiancé was this rich, I would’ve gotten him for myself,” Louis adds.

“Heeeyyy,” Harry pouts from next to him.

“Just joking, love,” Louis assures, standing lightly on his tiptoes to kiss Harry on the cheek. Liam opens the door and the boys file in one at a time. Zayn’s the last in line, giving Liam a tentative nod when he passes by.

The party, held the next day, undoubtedly turns out to be an extravagant one. The main hall of the mansion is transformed, decorated in bright colours with a mix of English and Urdu music blaring out of the speakers. There’s a dance floor in the middle of the hall, surrounded by a stage set up on one end for the ceremony and a buffet spread on the other with various selections of cakes, pastries, and other sweets. It’s relatively small in terms of people compared to most South Asian parties, but the atmosphere is still lively and joyous.

Liam leans against a pillar near the buffet, beverage in hand as he watches the people in attendance. He (or rather, his body) is exhausted so he stays in one spot, but he wants to remember the feeling -- doesn’t know if he’ll get to experience a party like this again -- so he takes in as much of the surroundings as he can. He smiles when he spots Harry and Louis sharing friendly chatter with his parents. He shakes his head fondly as he turns to watch Niall nearly fall flat on his face in an attempt to imitate a traditional Pakistani dance move that one of the performers is trying to teach him.

His eyes shift to the stage and he feels a pulse in his chest at the sight of Zayn. He’s wearing a dark-coloured sherwani, hair gelled up save for a single strand that falls across his forehead. He’s standing close to Isaac (something that should’ve stopped making him annoyed long ago, it’s been close to two months since they started dating, after all), laughing at something the other boy is saying. He looks incredibly beautiful, even more so under the warm lights of the hall, and happier than Liam has seen him in a long while.

Zayn suddenly turns to look in Liam’s direction, meeting his eyes. It’s their first proper contact of the entire day; it was easy for Liam to actively avoid him throughout the day’s busy preparations. Their relationship has been quite tense, to say the least (Liam has to keep reminding himself that it’s for the best, but he’s so close to forgetting why).

Whatever Zayn reads on Liam’s face makes his smile fall, morphing into an expression that Liam can’t decipher. Liam gulps to clamp the heaviness in his throat and looks away, ashamed at being caught staring. Through his peripheral vision, he sees Zayn keep his gaze on him for a while longer before turning around.

Liam shies away from the party a little later when everyone is occupied and he thinks no one will notice his absence. He takes a walk around the rest of the mansion and ends up stumbling into one of the many empty guest rooms. He heads to the balcony, hands gripping tightly onto the railing. He’s overwhelmed for reasons he can’t wrap his head around, the emotions he’s been trying to repress for so long taking over all at once. Harsh tears spill from his eyes, dropping on the railing, leaving large blotches in their wake. He lets out a whimper at the jab of pain in his chest. It’s like something is puncturing his lungs and he desperately needs _air_. It feels like he hasn’t been able to breathe properly for months, and he’s had enough.

Anger takes over; anger at Isaac for having everything that he can’t have (even though none of it is his fault), anger at his sickness and feeling so helpless because of it. Most of all, he tries to push away the fact that he’s terribly _heartbroken_. He jerks in surprise when he feels a warm hand rest on his shoulder. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he left the party and he glances over to see Louis casting him a worried look. His hair is disheveled and sticks to his forehead, like he had spent some time searching the mansion for Liam. Liam tries to wipe the tears off his cheeks hurriedly -- he doesn’t want anyone to see him like this, troubled and so _weak_ \-- but Louis grasps his wrist, stopping him. “Li?”

“I’m in love with Zayn,” Liam blurts. He’s not been able to admit it to Louis until now, and it’s liberating when the words leave his mouth. “And it makes me so fucking angry ‘cause the love in this heart is strong but my body is getting weaker every day. I don’t have enough time and I can’t do anything about it. I don’t want to be sick, Lou, I’m tired of fighting.”

Louis pulls Liam into a tight embrace, caressing his back gently, unsaid words resonating through the comforting physical contact. Liam melts into it, muffling his sobs into his best mate’s shoulder. When he opens his eyes, his gut twists when he’s greeted with the sight of Isaac standing inside the room. It’s one of the very few times since Liam’s known him that he doesn’t see even a trace of a smile on his face. His eyes express an emotion that affects Liam stronger than hatred, or betrayal-- it’s _hurt_.

“Isaac,” Liam croaks as the other boy storms off.

“Isaac?” Louis repeats, eyes widening in fear as he pulls away from Liam. “Did he--?”

Liam nods, stepping in front of Louis to block his path when he tries to walk to the door. “Let me talk to him, Lou.”

Liam leaves the room, his sweat-soaked shirt sticking to his skin uncomfortably. His chest tightens with every bout of exertion but he doesn’t stop. He turns a corner and spots Isaac outside, in the garden, staring out into the night. He pushes the sliding door that separates the mansion and the garden open and the jolt of pain from the simple action causes him to wince.

“I can explain,” Liam huffs.

“You love him,” Isaac states, letting out a sardonic laugh.

“No, that wasn’t--”

“Just stop, Liam. There’s no point in lying,” Isaac says. “When Zayn and I first started dating, he told me that he was still trying to get over a love that was unrequited. I noticed the way he looked at you, how he acted around you… So I put two and two together.”

“You-- you _knew_?” Liam gapes in disbelief.

“I had my suspicions, yeah, but I kept thinking that it didn’t matter, that he’d come around and get over you ‘cause you don’t feel the same way about him. Guess I should’ve known. Joke’s on me, eh?”

“You’re wrong, you did win him over. I might’ve given you a little push in the right direction, but he _chose_ to stay with you. You make him happy.”

Isaac shakes his head. His posture deflates, like he has lost the energy to be angry. “He doesn’t love me, though,” he says softly. “He never will, and he shouldn’t have to settle. I know that now. I’ve been fighting for a heart that was always meant to be yours.”

“My heart isn’t strong enough,” Liam argues, placing a hand over it as if to make a point. “I can’t give him mine. I’m sick, Isaac, and it’s-- for whatever amount of time I have left, I’ll be unstable. I can’t be a constant in his life. You can.”

“I’m sorry, Liam. Truly. You don’t deserve to be put through all that. But I deserve better too. So I won’t be in the way anymore.”

Isaac’s phone rings loudly, echoing through the garden and startling them both. He fishes it out of his jacket pocket and glances at the screen. “It’s Zayn.”

“Isaac, don’t, please, it’ll crush him,” Liam gets out, his tone a combination of a warning and a plead. His heart rate picks up, panic filling his lungs.

“He has to know,” Isaac responds. He answers the call. “Hey, Zayn?”

Liam reaches out to grab the phone on instinct, but he steps forward too quickly, causing a sudden dizziness to take over him. He breathes in gulps of air manically, trying to grab onto something for balance, but it’s a challenge when his vision becomes blurry. The pulsing pain increases in intensity with every passing second, and he lets out a pained groan as he slumps to the ground. The last thing he hears is Isaac calling out his name in alarm before he drifts into darkness.

 

***

 

“Liam! Oh my God, Liam--” comes the faint sound of Isaac’s voice from the other end of the line.

“What? What’s going on? Isaac, what happened to Liam?” Zayn asks, his jaw clenching with worry. He walks as fast as his legs can carry him, away from the booming music of the party. He has his phone in a tight grip, pressed almost painfully to his ear. “Isaac! Hello? Are you there?”

“Zayn,” Isaac says after a few seconds, his voice clear in his ear this time. “It’s Liam, he-- he passed out all of a sudden. I’m calling an ambulance. Help me lead the paramedics outside, to the garden.” The call cuts off. His throat is dry, palms clammy as he runs down the first hallway he sees, not knowing if it’ll lead to the entrance. He curses the size of the mansion and its confusing layout.

He finally makes it outside after a few wrong turns, and sits down on one of the higher steps of the staircase. It seems like an eternity before the lights of an ambulance flash in the distance. He quickly brings the paramedics, a man and a woman, to the garden, uneasiness building in his stomach when he sees Isaac crouching over Liam, who’s lying unconscious on the floor. Isaac lifts his head when he hears footsteps approaching, pushing himself up.

“He passed out about ten minutes ago, his heartbeat is faint, please--”

Zayn quickly walks over to Liam, touching his cheek. The other boy’s skin feels cold to the touch. His skin is pale, lips a light shade of blue.

“Please step aside, sir,” the male paramedic says. He reluctantly withdraws his hand, steps back to give them space. He follows as they carry Liam away to the ambulance.

“Can I--?” Zayn asks, motioning to the vehicle.

“Are you a relative?” the woman asks.

“N-- no, but--”

“Then I’m sorry. The hospital is a short drive from here,” she says, reaching out to shut the doors.

“I’ll let Louis know,” Isaac speaks up after a beat. “He’ll inform Liam’s family.”

Zayn nods mutely, digging his nails into his palms as he watches the ambulance drive off.

 

***

 

Isaac drives him to the hospital, Liam’s family arriving just after they do with Louis in tow. They’ve been at the waiting area for hours with no news, and even though Zayn can’t get comfortable on the chair, he starts to doze off.

“Babe?” he hears an echo of a voice. He jolts in his seat, eyes wide when they land on Isaac. “Is there an update on Liam?”

“Not yet, but we should go, you’re clearly exhausted.”

“No,” Zayn gets out. “I’m staying.”

“Louis will keep us updated,” Isaac assures. “You need to rest.”

“I don’t _want_ to rest,” Zayn snaps, instantly feeling remorseful when his tone causes Isaac to scrunch his forehead in what seems like frustration and hurt. “You go ahead,” he continues, gentler this time. “I’ll get a lift from Louis later or something.”

Isaac hesitates for a second, but he’s learnt how stubborn Zayn can be once he’s made up his mind about something.

“Okay. Call me if you need anything,” Isaac says. He kisses Zayn briefly on the cheek and walks away. Zayn can’t recall falling asleep, but the next thing he knows, he’s blinking his eyes open, his body aching from the limited space. He looks in the direction of Louis’ seat. The long wait had taken its toll on him as well; the older boy is deep in slumber, his mouth gaping open.

Zayn stands up to stretch his body. He walks down the hallway with the intention of getting some coffee from the vending machine, but he pauses when he hears Karen’s voice. He looks into a room nearest to him and sees her talking to someone whose face is obscured. He moves closer, his chest tightening when he sees that the person in question is _James_. Only this time, he’s wearing a white coat -- a doctor’s coat -- and has a stethoscope around his neck.

“... lack of oxygen to his heart, mainly due to stress and overexertion. It’s not too serious, but we really can’t afford another… episode like this one, not when he--” James stops mid-sentence when he notices Zayn standing by the door. “Sorry, did you need something?”

Karen turns around. “Zayn? You’re still here, dear?”

He takes a step inside the room. “I, um, I wanted to know how Liam is doing? If he’ll be okay,” he explains, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“He will be, he just needs to rest,” James offers. Relief washes over him, but there’s still a niggling feeling in the pit of his stomach that he can’t ignore. Karen excuses herself to settle some administration matters at the reception counter outside, leaving them alone in the room.

“I take it that you’re one of Liam’s mates?” James asks.

“Uh, yes. I... didn’t know you were his doctor,” Zayn admits.

“Hm? Good to know that he’s talked about me a lot,” James responds, but he smiles good-naturedly. “It’s fine, I know that he isn’t really a sharer. I’ve known the Paynes for years. We’re family friends. Actually, Liam’s part of the reason why I chose to become a cardiologist.”

“I see,” Zayn gets out.

“He’s a good egg. A real charmer. Sometimes I think my wife likes him more than she likes me,” he chuckles. “Anyway, I should go. More patients to check on. Excuse me.”

Zayn nods, not trusting himself to speak. He exhales once James is out the door. He’s initially confused at the sudden revelations that the past minute has brought him, but it all clicks into place in the worst way possible when Liam’s words play back like a film reel in his head.

_I can’t-- I mean, I don’t drink._

_Live your life to the fullest, ‘cause tomorrow isn’t certain._

_I couldn’t leave the house whenever I-- uh, I’d play when I was bored and had nothing else to do._

_I’m fine, just need to catch my breath._

_We’ve had some, um, problems in the past year. He’s the reason I came to London in the first place._

“Fuck,” he mutters. Liam would’ve had to know all along how time-sensitive his condition was, how unpredictable it could get. The thought makes him want to throw up. He leaves the hospital after that, wanting nothing more than to be far away.

 

***

 

Zayn gets out of the cab right outside the university dormitories. He walks past the many rooms, hoping that his memory is serving him well and that he’s going in the right direction. He stops at the door that has a small board attached, with “Isaac’s crib (Knock first please)” written on it. He knocks thrice. The door swings open after a while. Isaac is in his pyjamas, hair mussed. Zayn had forgotten to consider how early it’d be.

“Zayn?”

“Sorry, I should’ve called first. Didn’t mean to wake you,” Zayn says.

“Nah, it’s alright. Come in,” Isaac replies, voice heavy from sleep. “How’s Liam?”

“Hmm? Oh, right, he’s good. He’s resting.”

“Thank God, he got me really worried back there. Do you want something to dr--”

“Did you know?” Zayn interrupts. “About Liam?”

“About Liam what?”

“That he’s-- just, everything that’s been going on with him.”

“You mean about his illness? Or that he’s in love with you?” Isaac says, a rough edge to his voice. Zayn bites his lip, guilt making his stomach squirm. Isaac’s expression softens. “No, I didn’t. I found out at the party, right before he fainted, in fact.”

“This isn’t going to work out, is it?” he continues after a pause. “You love him and I can’t compete with that.”

Zayn doesn’t agree with him, but he doesn’t deny it, either, and he knows that speaks volumes.

“I want to be with someone who’ll love me, Zayn. All of me, no matter what. You deserve that too, and clearly we won’t get that with each other.”

“I’m sorry,” Zayn says. “I wish I could love you the way you want me to, but--”

“It’s always been Liam,” Isaac finishes. “I know.”

“Our friendship means so much to me, I hope you know that.”

“It does to me too,” Isaac’s lips quirk into a barely-there grin that doesn’t match the sadness in his eyes. “We had some good times, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Zayn responds. “We did.”

Zayn steps forward to hug the other boy. It’s brief, but it rounds up everything that they’ve gone through together in the past few months. He doesn’t think about where their friendship will go from here, but it’s a form of closure for the time being.

 

***

 

It takes Liam a moment longer for his vision to clear when he wakes up. He’s in the hospital, that much he’s sure of, and it’s the day time, judging by the sunlight streaming in through the windows. The hospital bed doesn’t give him the same comfort as his own bed does and after years of sleeping in them, he can tell the difference right away. The nurse is by his side almost at once, and goes to call for the doctor. He’s relieved when he sees the familiar face of James walk into the room.

“Hey, Li. Are you feeling alright?” James asks.

“Peachy,” Liam grits out, pushing himself upright.

“Oi, none of that sarcasm. You gave us a right scare, mate,” he tuts.

“Sorry. I’m fine, just a bit lightheaded.”

James does his regular checks on Liam, while he recalls the events that happened at the party. He is hit with the same fear that he did then, when he remembers-- Isaac finding out, him almost telling Zayn everything. That’s hours and hours of time that he’s missed, hours in which so much could have happened but he doesn’t know _anything_.

“Your vitals are normal, that’s good news. I’ll check in on you again later. In the meantime, you need to rest.” Liam doesn’t feel tired or sleepy, but his body tells a different story when he falls asleep soon after James leaves the room.

 

***

 

Liam jumps awake when the door opens, and he looks in the direction of it to see Harry, Louis, and Niall file in. He smiles, grateful for their presence, but disappointment sits heavily in his stomach when the door closes behind Niall, without the person he wants to see the most.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” Harry says.

“It’s okay,” Liam replies. They start talking about the most random things to fill the silence, and it’s clearly meant to distract him, but his eyes keep darting to the door.

“Where’s Zayn?” he blurts when no one addresses it after a few minutes and he can no longer stand not knowing. Louis and Harry glance quickly at each other.

“Um--” Niall says, a slight grimace marring his bubbly features. “He, uh, he couldn’t make it. He’ll drop by when he can.”

Liam can tell that it’s a lie, not only because Niall is an awful liar, but it just confirms his suspicions, that Zayn _knows_ , and he doesn’t want to face Liam. He doesn’t blame Zayn for wanting to stay away, he isn’t ready for a confrontation either. Louis changes the subject, and he tries to push it to the back of his mind.

 

***

 

Liam gets discharged a few days later, earlier than he’d expected. His parents had insisted that he stay at their house for a while as he recuperates, so he’d planned to head to his apartment first to pack some clothes and toiletries. He checks to see if he’d left anything inside the hospital room. He swings his backpack over his shoulder and turns around to leave.

By the time Liam gets back to the house and heads up to the guest bedroom, he finds the bed already occupied. Zayn’s eyes meet his when the door swings open and he’s fidgeting like he’s been waiting for a long time. His hair is messy, eyes slightly bloodshot with bags under them. Liam’s unable to do anything but stare mutely at him. He couldn’t have prepared himself enough for the conversation ahead.

“Hi,” Zayn rasps, breaking the silence. “Your mum let me in.”

“Hi,” Liam says. His parents are downstairs at the moment so there isn’t a chance of them being overheard, but he still moves to close the door behind him. There isn’t much space in the room in the first place, and it’s even smaller when confined with Zayn.

“James isn’t your boyfriend,” Zayn states. He pushes himself off the bed, and it looks like he’s still trying to process the information. “He’s your doctor.”

Liam nods curtly. He maintains eye contact, stepping closer to Zayn because he can’t hide anymore, he needs Zayn to know, from his own mouth this time.

“I’m sick,” Liam admits. Oddly enough, the confession makes him feel physically lighter. It must be a bit more of his heart breaking, he thinks. “I have a heart condition.”

Zayn lets out a breath. “Yeah. I figured that part out. But I don’t understand, you seemed fine, you-- with your daily habits, you’re supposed to be healthier than the rest of us combined.”

“It’s, um, it’s called congenital heart disease,” Liam explains. “Likely genetic, but I was 12 when I was diagnosed. It was manageable for a long time, but my condition started getting worse again about a year ago, just before I first met you. And it’s gone further downhill in the past two months.”

“Okay, but there must be something that can be done,” Zayn says, voice dropping to barely a whisper, like Liam’s words only confirmed what he had refused to truly believe until that point. “Fuck, Liam, you need to tell me that you’ll get better.”

“A transplant is my best chance, so I need a donor, but it’s taking more time than we expected. James has been trying to push me up the waiting list. It’s going to be okay, Zayn. Don’t worry about me,” Liam lies, offering a teeny smile in an attempt to placate the other boy.

“How’s Isaac?” Liam asks, hoping to stray from the topic. “I hope I didn’t scare him off when I fain--”

“We broke up,” Zayn interjects.

Liam furrows his eyebrows. “What? No. He-- you were-- weren’t you happy with him? Why wou--” Liam stops when Zayn’s expression changes.

“Is that why you didn’t want to be with me?” Zayn asks. “You thought that I wouldn’t be able to cope with your sickness?”

Liam tears his eyes away from Zayn’s face. He doesn’t know what to do about the way Zayn understands everything now, and that he’s clearly calling Liam out on it.

“Liam,” Zayn says firmly, forcing Liam to meet his gaze once more. Zayn’s eyes are glossy, and it makes his gut twist. “I love you. I never stopped loving you. And I know you feel the same about me too.”

Liam lets out a noise that’s a cross between a scoff and sniffle. He wants to tell Zayn that he shouldn’t, that people who love him will only end up getting hurt. But he can’t get the words out, so he shakes his head, feeling his own eyes brim with tears.

“You wanted me to be happy, even if it’s with someone else. You love me that much?” Zayn continues. He inches forward and reaches up to caress Liam’s cheek gently. Liam closes his eyes and tries not to lean into his touch.

“Say it,” Zayn urges. “Admit that you love me.”

“I can’t,” Liam supplies, turning away from Zayn just as a tear rolls down his cheek.

“Why won’t you let me in? Why are you scared of love?” Zayn asks, pain muddled with desperation in his tone.

“Fuck, you don’t get it. I’m not scared of love, Zayn. I’m scared that you won’t be able to handle losing me. The thought of you having to deal with that because of me… I can’t do that to you.”

“I want to be with you. That’s _my_ decision,” Zayn says, further proving his point by gesturing to himself. “If anything happens, I’ll still know that I willingly chose this -- chose you -- and I’ll live with it. You can’t make that choice for me.”

“You say that now but what if it really happens, Zayn? What then?” Liam raises his voice. “It’s late. I’m tired. Can we not discuss this right now? Just-- just leave. Please.”

It’s silent for a minute, tension thick in the air, and it feels like neither one of them take a breath.

“You told me once that I should make the most of my life,” Zayn speaks up. “Maybe you should take your own advice.” He walks out the door and lets it swing shut behind him.

Most of the tension leaves Liam’s body, but there is still a dull ache in his chest. Recently, he hasn’t been able to distinguish whether the pain is attributed to his sickness or his heartache, but it all muddles together so much that it no longer matters. He curls up on his bed and wills for sleep to take over.

 

***

 

Zayn spends most of the next week in the solace of his room. He goes through intervals of sleeping and waking up until it’s late in the afternoon and he can’t fall back asleep anymore. He’s in a terrible mood, his eyes rimmed red and puffy from crying. He attempts to study, but it makes his sadness turn into annoyance and then anger when he finds that he can’t concentrate, thoughts repeatedly straying to the same boy-- the way it’s been for months now, but somehow different considering what he’s recently found out. He huffs aloud, flipping through his textbook with more force than necessary, almost ripping out a page.

Zayn hasn’t initiated any contact with Liam since their confrontation. Liam has stayed silent too. The thing is, Zayn realizes that he’s being unreasonable and just plain stupid, distancing himself from Liam when he _knows_ , knows the limitations that Liam’s condition gives him, knows that time could simply decide to stop being on his side.

He looks around for his phone, reaching out to grab it from the floor below his bed. He tries to switch it on but finds that it’s been drained of its battery. He plugs his charger into the phone and goes to the bathroom while waiting for it to restart. It vibrates on the table when he gets back, Niall’s name reflected on the screen.

“Hello?” Zayn says.

“Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for ages,” Niall demands, without so much as a hello back.

“Sorry,” Zayn mumbles. “Just got up.”

Niall sighs. “You didn’t show up at the pub yesterday. Liam asked about you.”

Zayn leans back in his chair. “I don’t want to see him. Not for now.”

“Fair enough,” Niall says. “I’m not gonna tell you what to do. I think he wants to talk, in person, when you’re ready.”

“Okay,” Zayn replies.

“Hey, Z? I know I’m not really great at all the emotional stuff, not in the way Hazza is, but I’m here if you need someone to listen. Or if you want to get hammered.”

Zayn laughs. “Yeah, Ni. I’ll give you a shout.”

He hangs up after a while, lies on his bed and stares at the ceiling. He’s emotionally conflicted and he can’t stop mulling over how unfair the situation is. Liam’s a good person, is the thing. Like, _genuinely_ good. Liam shines bright, kind of like the way you’re half asleep in the middle of the night and using your phone, reading a really good story and the light is so blinding that it makes you squint but you willingly keep at it because you’ve been pulled in and you can’t give it up. Then when your phone ends up dropping on your face, you end up laughing it off and do it again the next night because the pain was somehow worth it. Liam is like that; he challenges him, makes Zayn question himself and his choices but he’d have it no other way.

So it’s not just that Zayn’s upset, it’s that he feels so fucking _guilty_ for assuming the worst about him when he’s been through so much in the past year. He lets his thoughts take over, until long after the sky has turned dark, and wonders why the worst things happen to the best of people.

 

***

 

Liam presses down on his head in frustration despite knowing that it would do nothing to help the pulsing pain subside. He reaches out for the cup of water on his bedside table, sipping on it slowly to moisten his chapped lips. He’s back in his apartment after reassuring his parents over and over that he’d be fine on his own. He was grateful that they were there for him throughout most of his recovery process, but they’d fussed over him too much, even about the smallest things, and it had only made him feel like more of a burden as the days went on. Right now, though, he’s out of aspirin, and a part of him wishes that he was back at their house just so he could sift through their collection of medication stocked up for emergencies to get what he needed.

It’s been a few hours since a headache had creeped up on him, and his need for relief had slowly begun to outweigh his laziness to make a trip to the store. Liam reaches for his phone and presses the home button to illuminate the screen. It’s just past 9 at night, but he thinks he might be able to get to the store before it closes. He picks out a pair of track pants that sit on top of a pile of clothes that had formed over the week (he’ll get the laundry done tomorrow, he _will_ ), tugging them on hastily. He swipes his keys from the kitchen counter, walking to the front door and pulling it open. His eyes flit to the end of the hallway naturally, but his chest constricts when he sees the person whom he has not been able to get out of his head: Zayn, standing there, stock still.

Zayn’s face contorts in panic when he realises that Liam’s spotted him; Zayn probably hadn’t expected him to leave his apartment. The boy seems to second-guess his presence there, and quickly backs away.

“Zayn!” Liam tries to scream, but his voice comes out soft and hoarse from lack of use. He locks the door in a hurry before going after him. “Zayn, please,” Liam calls out, louder this time, when he gets to the top of the stairs. He notices Zayn hesitate for a second at the landing a floor below, but he doesn’t stop completely. Liam follows him even though he knows that he shouldn’t be exerting his body more than he absolutely has to. The effort taken to get down each step has him breathing heavily, letting out loud and throaty coughs. _Please stop_ , he thinks desperately.

Zayn turns around at the bottom of the stairwell, just before the entrance to the building. Liam catches up to him, placing his hand against the wall to hold himself steady as he takes in deep, full breaths. His face, he assumes, is red and teary. Zayn looks at him with both guilt and disapproval laced in his expression. “You shouldn’t have come after me.”

“Should’ve-- just-- stopped, then,” Liam stubbornly gets out in between pants.

Zayn huffs in frustration. “You’re not a fucking superhero, Liam, you can’t do whatever you want without consequences. Your body’s still recovering.”

“You think I don’t know that? Damn it--” he pauses when a middle-aged woman walks into the apartment block, giving them both an odd look. She moves past them and up the stairs. There’s a short silence in which Liam waits for the woman to be out of sight before he turns back towards Zayn. “Why are you here?”

Zayn runs a hand through his hair, causing it to be even more tousled than usual. “We should talk.”

“Okay. Let’s start with the other day, then. I know you’re angry, you have every right to be. You can say whatever you want to me, I can take it. I deserve it. I just-- I really miss you.”

“Don’t you dare say that. Not after you kept me in the dark about your condition for so long. Everyone else knew, Liam! Everyone but me!”

“They weren’t meant to,” Liam counters. “But I should’ve told you from the start.”

Zayn sighs. “I thought about what you did and why you did it. I can kind of understand why you felt like you had to now, but that doesn’t make it okay.”

Liam nods. “I know.”

“It’s my fault too. I kept pushing you to talk about your feelings when you clearly didn’t want to,” Zayn continues. “I shouldn’t have. I get it. Forget what I said, yeah? We can go back to being mates--”

“No,” Liam intercepts loudly, surprising both himself and Zayn.

“N-- no?” Zayn gets out.

Liam takes a breath, confidence and certainty building up inside him. “No. That sounds like torture.”

Zayn knits his eyebrows, unsure and questioning.

“Torture, ‘cause I don’t want to _just_ be mates,” Liam clarifies. “You were right. I used to preach about seizing the day but I couldn’t do it when it came down to you. The truth is, I’ve never met someone who’s made me so furious and terrified about my illness at the same time, ‘cause no one has ever mattered to me the way you do. You make me strong. You make me want to fight, to get better. It didn’t properly sink in until recently... heck, until a minute ago, when I saw you walking away from me. But I need you by my side.” Liam steps closer. “I love you, Zayn.”

Zayn audibly whimpers at Liam’s confession, closing the gap between them by pulling Liam into a hug. Liam reacts to it instantly, wrapping his arms tight around Zayn like he’s scared that he might take off again. It hurts; he’s craved to say those words for a long time, but he could never have imagined the circumstances in which he’d say them, nor in which Zayn would hear them. “I love you too.”

“I’m sorry,” Liam says, pressing a kiss onto his temple. “I’m sorry for taking so long to tell you, and for everything else. I love you so much.”

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” Zayn murmurs into Liam’s neck.

“Not to ruin the moment… boyfriend?” Liam begins after a pause. “But I need to get some aspirin before the store closes.”

Zayn lets out a strange noise that sounds like a mix between a giggle and a sniffle. “Okay, boyfriend,” he confirms.

Liam takes Zayn’s hand, intertwining their fingers together. Zayn smiles at him, eyes twinkling in the night. Liam tries to memorise his every feature, and pictures the scene as clearly as he can in his head. In that moment it almost seems like he’s in another world, in an alternate reality, one where he isn’t sick, isn’t worried if his heart would suddenly give out on him. In that reality, he has a solid future with Zayn. It’s fleeting, but he holds onto it for as long as he can. Zayn goes back to Liam’s apartment after that. Liam has the most comfortable sleep that he’s had in a long while.

 

***

 

Liam wakes up the next morning to gentle kisses along his jaw and neck that make him feel tingly all over.

“Zayn,” he utters in a sleepy haze, reaching out to card his fingers through the other boy’s hair as he makes his way lower.

“Shh,” Zayn murmurs. Zayn pulls Liam’s boxers down, putting one hand around the base of his dick. He’s half-hard and he almost moans at the touch. Zayn takes Liam’s cock in his mouth, wasting no time at all as he alternates between sucking and swirling his tongue over the length.

“So good, babe,” Liam lets out, unintentionally jerking his hips. Zayn takes more of his dick into his mouth when he’s gotten used to the feel of it, until his nose lightly grazes Liam’s skin. Liam takes his hands off Zayn’s hair, choosing to clutch the sheets instead as he feels himself build up to an orgasm. “I’m gonna--”

Zayn pops off Liam’s cock just before he comes, coating Zayn’s cheeks and lips with his release. Zayn smirks up at him, continuing to suckle on his dick as it softens until it’s just bordering on oversensitive. He looks beautiful even with come across his face, a string of saliva extending from his lips to the tip of Liam’s dick when he pulls off again.

“Shit, Zayn, you’re-- you’re amazing,” Liam gasps.

Liam sits up to return the favour after he catches his breath, but an ache courses through his body that makes him jerk back. His condition has made him weaker than he used to be, even more so when he’s just awoken and his joints are stiff. He lets out a frustrate groan.

“It’s okay, Li,” Zayn places a hand on his torso, pushing him back down onto the bed. “Let me make you feel good, yeah?”

Zayn pushes himself up to wipe his face, and Liam lets out a soft whimper when he sees that the other boy is naked. He climbs on the bed when he’s done, blanketing Liam with his body. Liam holds onto his waist to keep him steady, lifting his head up to kiss him. It doesn’t take long before he gets hard again. He reaches down, squeezing his dick to relieve the pressure, his hand grazing Zayn’s crotch.

“I want to ride you,” Zayn says, voice heavy. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” Liam gets out. “Yeah, definitely.”

Zayn takes Liam’s hand, guiding it to his entrance. He doesn’t expect to find it already slick, his finger sliding in easily. “You-- you opened yourself up?”

“Yeah,” Zayn confirms, his breath catching when Liam adds another finger. “Just now, when you were asleep.”

“Fuck,” Liam responds. “Did you think of me? My dick inside you, filling you up?”

Zayn lets out a groan. “Y-- yeah. ‘S all I want, Li.”

“Let me see you, babe,” Liam says, pulling his fingers out of him. “Wanna see you ride my cock. So ready for me, yeah?”

Zayn gets a condom from under the bed, rolling it onto Liam’s length. He positions himself over Liam, his tongue sticking out slightly. After a moment, he sinks down slowly, until Liam’s almost completely inside him. Liam closes his eyes and controls himself; just the feeling of Zayn clenching around him has him on the brink. Zayn begins to move, building up a rhythm as he fucks himself on Liam’s dick.

“Does it feel good, Li?” Zayn asks as he picks up speed. “Love how well my body takes your cock? I could have it in me all day.”

Liam’s breath hitches, too overcome with arousal to form words. He knows Zayn’s close when his movements start becoming more and more uncoordinated. Zayn tugs on his dick, his hand moving quickly as he jerks himself off. He comes soon after, a satisfied moan leaving his lips. Liam feels Zayn’s body relax on top of him, so he grips his sides tightly, sure to leave marks later, and thrusts up into him until he comes, pleasure hitting him in waves. Zayn gently pushes himself off Liam when they’ve both come down from their highs, tossing the condom into the bin before falling back onto the bed.

“I’m spent,” Zayn announces. “For now.”

Liam chuckles. He pulls him closer, not caring that they’re both sticky with sweat and come, and kisses Zayn on his forehead. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” Zayn returns the sentiment. “You’re not going to make me leave this time, are you?”

“Not a chance. You’re stuck with me forever.”

Zayn nuzzles the sensitive spot below his ear. “Come with me. To New York.”

“Zayn…” Liam scrunches his forehead. “You know I can’t. My heart’s not cooperating with me right now.”

“Then come when you get better. Promise me.”

Liam lets out a breath. “Okay. I’ll be there, I promise.”

 

***

 

A few days later, Liam gets shocked awake by a sudden coughing fit that never seems to end. The subsequent events pass in a blur-- Zayn’s panicked gasp when he switches on the lights and sees him, the sight of the bright red-tinged sputum that stains Liam’s chin, fingers and sheets, the grating sound of an ambulance siren ringing in his ears when he’s wheeled in on a stretcher and the fear that courses through him before everything goes dark.

 

***

 

Zayn curls his hands into fists to stop them from shaking as he restlessly paces back and forth in the waiting area. Liam’s parents reach the hospital within half an hour. When Karen’s eyes land on Zayn, she immediately goes to give him a hug.

“Oh, love. It’s okay. He’ll be okay,” she assures. Zayn almost breaks down in tears, but he knows it won’t help matters, so he holds himself together. Zayn nods at Geoff in acknowledgement when he comfortingly pats him on the back. His head whips up when James leaves Liam’s room, gently closing the door behind him.

“How is he, James?” Geoff asks, stepping forward.

“His heart is very weak. This happened too soon after the previous time, his heart was still in the recovery stage, so it’s not pumping blood around the body nearly as fast as it should be. The best chance for his heart to perform optimally again would be through surgery. The most important thing right now is to make sure he doesn’t get weaker.”

“Can we see him?” Zayn asks.

“Not at the moment, Zayn, I’m sorry. He needs to be prepped. Maybe after if-- when his condition looks up.”

“Okay. Please, James, just. Please help him,” Zayn pleads. He doesn’t miss the hopelessness and devastation in James’ eyes. Zayn recognises how hard it must be for him to see Liam this way too, not just as a doctor to a patient, but as a close friend to another.

“I’ll do my best, as always,” James says, his voice faltering. “Geoff, Karen, can I talk to you in private, please?”

The three of them walk away. Zayn sits on the nearest chair and does something that he hasn’t done in a very long time-- he prays.

 

***

 

Zayn is the first in Liam’s room after his surgery is over and when James gives visitors the all-clear. It’s been a few days, and Liam should’ve already woken up from his surgery, but he hasn’t.  It’s too quiet in the room, the only sound coming from the monitor next to the bed that beeps in intervals. It’s no wonder Liam hates it so much here, he thinks.

The main thing he notices is that Liam’s face is thinner, sunken in with a bluish tinge to his skin, and the difference seems to stand out even more against the white of the pillow. He looks so different compared to when Zayn first met him; he didn’t realise just how much Liam had changed physically over the last year until right in that moment. It makes his insides lurch, the fact that the changes managed to skip his notice.

Zayn sits on the lone chair next to the bed that’s angled to face the television screen in the room. He sits in silence for a while, just takes in every inch of Liam’s face. He reaches out for the other boy’s hand, intertwining their fingers together.

“Hey, Li,” Zayn begins, clearing his throat when his voice comes out hoarse. “I don’t, um, I don’t know if you can hear me, but. James said that talking to you might help with your recovery, so.”

He pauses. “My dadi, she-- she apologized to me yesterday. Can you believe it? I think that was the first time I’ve ever heard her say that she’s sorry for anything, really,” he chuckles. “She said that it’ll take a while for her to wrap her head around, well, me, but she wants to try. That’s a good step, innit? She gave me her blessing to go for the arts program, which is a massive relief. My mum and her are trying to get along and not argue as much too, which is a miracle in itself, honestly.”

Zayn gently squeezes Liam’s hand. “I’ll be here, Li. As long as it takes for you to get better. New York can wait. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

***

 

Zayn leaves the room a while later, using the back of his hand to wipe the residue of tears off his face. He gets a small smile from Louis when he reaches the waiting area.

“Hey,” Louis says.

“Hey,” Zayn manages. “Why didn’t you come in?”

“Thought it’d be best if I left you alone with him,” he responds consideringly. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a piece of paper before extending it to Zayn.

“What is it?” Zayn asks, looking at the crumpled and discoloured material.

The expression that passes on Louis’ face is equal parts uncomfortable and pained. “Liam asked me to pass this letter to you, when, um, I felt like it was the right time. You can read it, if you want to.”

“Okay,” he says. “Thank you.”

He keeps the paper safe until he gets home and has locked himself in his room. He unfolds the paper, feeling a tiny bit at ease when he’s greeted with Liam’s familiar handwriting.

_Dear Zayn,_

_Hi Jaan :)_

_I’ve been feeling so tired lately. All I want to do is sleep. I guess something has happened to me and it must be pretty bad, which is why you’re reading this right now. I hope I’m dreaming of you._

_I know you’ve already heard this a lot at this point, but I’m in love with you. I’m so hopelessly in love with you. I feel like I have been since the first time I saw you, it just took me a while to figure it out, and even longer to admit it to you. I think of you all the time and I want to be right next to you, every day. God, I wish I was awake right now. I haven’t spent nearly enough time with you and I’m sorry. It’s my fault._

_You know, people say you’re lucky if you can find a friend in your lover, but I think I’m the luckiest man alive because I found a lover in my friend. I’ve never met anyone who understands me like you do, in every way possible. So many people have loved in this world but I’m certain my love is different from the rest because I love_ you _. I’m so proud of you for taking that step to follow your dream. I don’t want to be the person who holds you back from having the best, most fulfilling life._

_I know you might choose to stay here with me, but that’s the last thing I want. Go to New York, Zayn. Don’t wait for me. I’ll hate you if you do. (Just joking. I could never hate you. I’ll just be really, really angry and come back to haunt you as a ghost. Okay, took that a bit too far.)_

_No matter what’s happened or will happen to me, I want you to know that you’ve changed my life for the better, and I hope I’ve done the same for you. I love you, I’ll always be with you. So get out there and_ live _._

_Forever yours, Liam_

 

***

 

Zayn tries to keep himself busy with preparations for New York, but he’s still reluctant about leaving, and he can’t place his complete focus on the things he does, not when Liam’s condition is so uncertain. Zayn’s heart rate picks up every time his phone rings for two different reasons; a part of him is hopeful that things will look up, and the other is terrified of having to listen to even more bad news.

He visits Liam everyday without fail over the next week. Sometimes he’s accompanied by Niall, Harry, or Louis, or all three, but mostly, it’s just him sitting by Liam’s bedside as he talks about his day or anything else he thinks could help stimulate awareness in Liam.

“Niall dragged me out last night. He wanted to have a last outing before I leave tomorrow. He managed to get the entire pub to sing Bed Of Roses. Imagine, over a dozen drunk people slurring wrong lyrics to the song all at once. I haven’t laughed so hard in ages.” Zayn smiles when he recalls the moment.

“Harry and Louis were all over each other, as usual. Disgusting saps. Hazza’s never been so smitten before. It’s nice. They’re great together. Not as great as us, though, yeah?”

Zayn gazes at Liam, still somehow expecting him to respond even though he hasn’t shown any signs that he can hear Zayn, let alone react. Liam’s just there, with no improvement whatsoever to his condition, and in the next second, it causes something in Zayn to break.

“Liam, please,” Zayn gets out, eyes burning as tears stain his cheeks. “I don’t know what to do. Not when there’s a real possibility that I might lose you. They told us that the surgery was successful, but you’re not waking up.”

He moves his thumb over Liam’s palm, gently stroking the skin there. “I don’t want to tell you that it’s okay for you to go if you can’t hold on anymore. I can’t. And I don’t care if that makes me selfish. You’ve made it this far so I know you’re strong enough to fight this. You promised that you’ll join me in New York, right? So I need you to wake up, Li. Please, please wake up.”

He presses a gentle kiss onto his palm, hoping that the gesture relays everything else that he can’t say with words.

 

***

 

**5 weeks later**

Zayn wakes up, the loud noises of two cats fighting outside jerking him awake. He tuts, knows he won’t be able to fall back asleep. He stares at the ceiling for the next hour until it’s time for him to get ready for work. Zayn walks into his office fifteen minutes late in an awful mood, but there isn’t anyone around who really cares. He gets his work done, and he does it well.

“Morning, Zayn. Y’alright?” one of his colleagues asks after he’s seated in his cubicle.

“I’m good, thanks,” Zayn lies. He’s mostly left to his own devices after the scheduled morning greeting, and he’s fine with that. His mood worsens as the hours tick by, not getting any inspiration to create designs for the company that are due to be submitted soon, and he’s the first out the door at the end of the day. He likes it in New York, likes his job and the things he’s learning, but it’s just one of _those_ days.

That night, Zayn gets back to his small apartment in the outskirts of the city. It’s a shoebox, but it’s quaint and affordable. The space is still half filled with boxes that he’s yet to unpack, even though it’s been weeks since he moved in. He feels arms wrap around his waist, a chin resting on his shoulder, and he immediately relaxes into it, a smile crossing his face for the first time that day.

“Hey, you,” Liam says.

Liam had woken up about a week after Zayn left for New York. Zayn had cried over the phone when he received the news, neither of them wanting to hang up even after talking for hours and Liam needed to rest. It took another month in which James had made sure that he was well enough and that everything else was in order before he was finally allowed to join Zayn in the US. Ever since Liam stood at the airport, a soft _I promised, didn’t I?_ leaving his lips, Zayn had known that he’d never want to spend another moment apart from him.

There’s nothing like the relief that goes through him whenever he’s reminded that Liam’s physically there, that they’re together, that he’d woken up and that Zayn was given another chance to be with him. He doesn’t take it for granted.

“Hey, babe,” Zayn greets, resting a hand on top of Liam’s arm.

“We have to pick the boys up from the airport tomorrow,” Liam reminds him after pressing a gentle kiss to the back of his neck. “Niall’s been going on and on about being the third wheel.”

“Wait until they get here and he becomes the fifth wheel,” Zayn jests.

Liam chuckles. “You’re terrible.”

“You love me.”

“I do. I love you so much,” Liam agrees.

Liam’s condition over the past month hasn’t been the best, but it’s somewhat stable. There are many bad days that come along with the good days, and he deals with them as they happen, and Zayn helps him. Liam’s slowly learning to fully accept his condition for what it is; that it’s okay if it’s something he won’t always be able to control. He won’t let it stop him from living and loving -- loving Zayn, specifically -- as well as expressing that love.

“Bunch of letters in the mailbox, I haven’t looked through them yet,” Zayn informs him.

Liam walks over to the kitchen counter, picking up the stack of envelopes. He goes through the first few quickly, but stops at a particular one. Zayn flicks his gaze to him, seeing Liam’s hands tremble as he rips the envelope open. His eyes scan through the contents of the letter, welling up with tears when he gets to the end.

“Li?” Zayn calls as he steps towards him. “What is it?”

“I’ve been matched with a donor,” Liam gets out, delirious with happiness. “I’m getting a new heart.”

**Author's Note:**

> Not-so-fun fact: I originally planned for this fic to end the way it did in the film, but I just couldn’t do it, I had to write a happy ending. Thank you for reading, do let me know what you thought of it!


End file.
